


The Mimic

by aces_low



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Brief & Mentioned/Implied Violence, Explicit Language, Gen, Heist, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, mentioned/implied torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-11 00:31:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 55,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10451004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aces_low/pseuds/aces_low
Summary: George Luz is a Mimic, someone with the genetic mutation that allows them to look and sound like anyone else. But, in a society where Mimics have been eradicated, due to the fear they caused, he must hide that part of himself. Leading him to seek a solitary life.With the sudden reappearance of an old friend and a misguided encounter with an attractive stranger, George is dragged kicking and screaming into a world he never wanted any part in, where others with “abilities” fight for their rights. Now, he must decide if this group of rebels are actually trying to protect him, or have a different agenda.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2017 Easy Co Big Bang
> 
> These characters are not meant to represent the real men, they are based solely off of the HBO series.

 

George’s eyes are blue this morning.

He doesn’t even think about them as he brushes his teeth, they’ll change back soon enough, the deep blue bleeding out into his normal brown.

It’s just one of those things that’s happened all this life. Waking up from a dream, his eyes a color they shouldn’t be, it's one of the few things that hadn’t been forced out of him as a child. Unlike so many other innate habits he had learned to suppress or ignore.

At a younger age, George Luz had been rambunctious and animated. He had loved to tease and impersonate others, finding their voices slipping from his own mouth with ease.

“Stop that!” his mother would snap, when he would imitate his siblings, or his neighbors. “You don’t want someone thinking you’re a no good Mimic, do you?”

It is still a common enough tool, used by parents to keep their children from acting out, but there had always been just a hint of more, a hint of fear in his mother whenever she’d scolded him in particular, the way she hadn’t done with the rest of his siblings. She had done everything she could to keep him from showing others that he was anything but normal, but there had been some things neither of them could control. 

One morning, when he had been about nine-years-old, she had grabbed him and shook him forcefully, pleading with him to stop, to change his eyes back and never do it again. He had cried, confused and scared, but had been unable to make them change, no matter how hard he tried and no matter how hard she shook him, he just had to wait for them to change back like always. To this day, he’s still unable to fully control that particular quirk.

 

He understands her fear now, understands why a mother wouldn’t want her child to be thought of as a Mimic.

But wanting to be a Mimic and being a Mimic are two different things. Nobody would  _ want _ to be a Mimic. Not that Mimics are even around anymore. Or at least that’s what most people believe. George, unfortunately, knows that’s not entirely true.

 

He gets ready for work, just like every morning. He takes a shower, drinks his coffee, and eats his breakfast, just like every morning. He checks the mirror before leaving, to make sure his eyes are brown again, just like every morning.

 

The weather is getting colder, but he still walks to work instead of taking public transportation, the crowded bus always leaving him with a vague sense of panic whenever he tries.

 

Walking into his office he notes the sudden silence that only occurs when people cut off their conversation abruptly. His co-workers, Ramirez, Christenson, and Wynn, are already at their desks.

George just nods to them in greeting before sitting down. He’s used to this, he doesn’t have the same camaraderie with the three men that they have with each other. He’s never really had that kind of camaraderie with anyone.

He’s used to it.

Even without looking, he can tell there is a silent conversation going on between the three other men, but he keeps his head down, getting to work. After just a minute though, it seems Christenson has won out whatever the silent argument had been about.

“Hey Luz, we were just talking about going to the Annual Horror Fest this Friday, you know the one they have at the Battalion, the old local theater on 2 nd street. You heard of it?” Christenson asks.

George looks up to see Christenson with a polite smile on his face, Wynn looking resigned, and Ramirez trying to hide a scowl.

“No, I don’t think so,” he tells them.

“Oh, it’s great, this year they’re doing three classics. They’re gonna have ‘The Shining’ and ‘Psycho’, and then, get this, at midnight, they’re gonna be playing ‘The Mimic’.”

George’s stomach tightens.

“Why would they show that?” he asks, thinking of the horror film that haunted his nightmares for weeks after he had defied his mother’s rule and watched it one night when she wasn’t home.

“Because it’s one of the best psychological thrillers ever made,” Ramirez explains, looking annoyed at Luz’s hesitance.

“All I know is I watched it when I was a kid, and after that, I told myself I’d never watch it again.”

Wynn laughs. “We were all just talking about that, I don’t think anyone slept the first week after watching ‘The Mimic’. Hell, I still get creeped out when I watch it. I mean, I think it’s one of the few movies that hasn’t stopped being scary to me with age.”

“Well yeah, because now that you’re older you realize that it could actually happen, and  _ did _ actually happen,” Christenson says, looking animated and excited to discuss the film.

“I still don’t think I’d ever want to watch that one again,” Luz admits.

“I thought you said you like movies, whenever we ask what you’re doing you always seem to have plans to watch a movie,” Christenson points out.

“Well, yeah, ones that are enjoyable. Not psychological torture films about shit that actually happened, where the bad guy has no reason for what he’s doing other than he feels like it and he can,” he explains, shivering at the memory of the film.

 

‘The Mimic’ had come out in the mid-80’s and had been extremely controversial. Critics argued that the subject matter was just torture porn and the concept of the villain being a Mimic had been considered outlandish and ultimately a way of scaring the public into believing that Mimics were somehow back. Others praised the film for not only exploring the depths of the human psyche, but being an accurate representation of what life had been like during the time when Mimics had been around. Though, for months after the film had first been released, there had been an uptick of violence and murder, caused by people claiming they were justified because they believed that their victims had been Mimics who had been stealing the identities of their loved ones. 

 

“So I guess that means you don’t want to come with us on Friday?” Christenson asks.

That stops George in his tracks a little. He understands that it’s mostly just a pity invite, Christenson tries this every once in awhile. But it always surprises him to be invited to anything, mostly because he knows they’re all pretty relieved when he ultimately turns the offer down. 

“Oh, uh, no. Thanks, I would…but, like I said, that movie just really bothers me.”

“Well, then how about coming for drinks with us tonight,” Christenson pushes, and that stops George again.

Christenson doesn’t usually do this, he usually just accepts the rejection, says ‘maybe next time’ and they move on. George recalls that Christenson just broke up with his boyfriend a few weeks ago, he really hopes this isn’t his way of trying to hit on him. He does not want to have to work in the same office as Christenson after having to reject him, or having Christenson reject  _ him _ after the fact, if something did happen.

“I-“ he starts, but Wynn speaks up.

“Come on, Luz, you never come out with us. What’s one drink?” Wynn asks, and Christenson nods along.

He knows what one drink could mean, this isn’t his first time trying to navigate his way around people in attempts to make friends. Usually it ends with Luz getting his hopes up and the other person deciding, for always unknown reasons, that they don’t really want to be around him anymore. Or he doesn’t even get his hopes up, because he’s too awkward, that he knows right away that they won’t want to be around him again.

But he sits in the same room as these men almost every day, he knows how to interact with them in a detached, professional sort of way, he figures he can keep that up for an extra hour or two.

“Yeah, okay, sure. Thanks,” he accepts, and Wynn and Christenson both smile at him, while Ramirez just shrugs and turns to his desk to work.

-

 

The bar is fairly empty as they enter. He wonders if ‘Happy Hour’ is still a concept, it’s been a few years since he was a social drinker. 

He orders the same beer as the rest of them. It’s not his normal drink of choice, but he’s not really here to have fun and relax with a few work buddies, tonight’s plan is more about fitting in and following along.

They talk a little about work, but mostly about relationships. Ramirez complains about something his wife did, but the story seems to involve knowledge of a past event, as Christenson and Wynn start laughing, and Luz takes a long pull from his drink. 

He wishes he was better at this. When he is home alone every night, all he wants is to be out with a group of his friends, laughing and teasing and telling each other the same stories over and over again. But whenever he’s faced with the opportunity to actually do what he wants he either shies away from it or makes a complete idiot of himself. He doesn’t know how to interact with a group of friends, because he’s never had any real practice.

When the conversation devolves into the three others telling a story that they apparently were all there for, if the ‘remember when’s and ‘don’t forget!’s are anything to go by, Luz’s concentration starts to fade. He looks around the bar; it’s a pretty standard set-up, with a couple of TVs playing different sporting events, high tables set up around the walls and a few shorter ones shoved into random spots. Guinness and Jameson memorabilia proudly hung up around the bar, with T-shirts and other pieces of merchandise strung up here and there.

His scanning of the bar is stopped when he notices a man in the back of the room. He’s got short, dark hair, and warm, tanned skin. His jacket is hanging off the back of his chair and Luz can tell he’s lean, but with clear muscles showing under his dark shirt. When the man shifts his gaze toward the front door Luz can see his face better and he’s a little bit captivated by his dark eyes, and the man isn’t even looking at him. He’s sure getting caught in this man’s stare could end up deadly.

He’s pretty sure he’s caught looking when the man flicks his gaze toward him, but it’s only for a moment before he looks away. Just that small look, though, has Luz feeling compelled to walk over to him.

He’s saved from that ridiculous idea when he hears “what about you, Luz?” off to the side.

“Huh?” he asks dumbly, looking back toward his co-workers, realizing he had completely lost track of the conversation.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Christenson asks.

“Oh, no. Never really been much for relationships,” Luz answers. It’s somewhat true, as he’s never been in a relationship before. The closest he’s been was the guy that slept with him twice a few years back. Though after the second time, he had got up to leave and told Luz that they probably shouldn’t see each other anymore.

For one, inexplicable, moment Luz’s eyes move back over toward the man in the corner, before forcing himself to keep his concentration on the people he came with.

He’s had more success finding lovers, or at least one night stands, than he has friends. It’s easy to meet some guy in a crowded bar, appear to be what he wants for a couple of hours and then move on like it never happened the next morning, or even that same night. Luz is good at moving on like nothing ever happened. It’s easy to do when it’s obvious the guy is thinking of someone else while with him, staring into his eyes that he knows don’t look like his own. 

“You’re young still,” Wynn says in response to Luz’s confession, obviously believing it’s by choice that Luz is alone. “You’ll find someone you want to be with eventually.”

Luz doesn’t really know what to say to that, so he just nods his head thoughtfully and takes another drink.

 

The hairs on the back of his neck begin to prickle and he wants to turn back to look at the man, but Luz keeps his eyes on Christenson as he complains about the terrible date he went on last weekend.

-  
  


An hour later, Luz is home, throwing his keys on the counter and pouring himself a glass of water. The night hadn’t been terrible, but he’s pretty sure they’re not going to ask him to come out with them again for a while, they’ve done their good deed for the month.

When he’s getting ready for bed, he stops to look at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t think he would be considered average or normal in terms of his looks, as he doesn’t look like every other person on the street, and yet there’s something not quite distinct in his appearance. It’s like he’s just existing in the space, but not adding to it, he’s not quite tangible to the rest of the world or even to himself, if he’s being honest. It’s as though he’s a blank slate. After just two beers he’s not drunk enough to feel emotional about any of this. It’s just how it is.

He gets into bed, regarding the otherwise empty apartment for a moment, before turning on the TV. It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep watching old sitcom reruns. He dreams about dark eyes and strong hands; he dreams of safety and contentment.

 

Luz wakes up before his alarm. He squints at the infomercial that is playing on his TV for a moment before blindly reaching around his bed to find his remote. Digging his head back into his pillow he does some calculations, realizing that if he gets up now he’ll be able to stop by the coffee shop near his work and get a drink instead of making his own. He tries to remember the dream he had, but the more he tries to remember the more it begins fading away from his mind. 

 

He follows his normal routine, with a shower and breakfast, attempting to ignore his reflection in the mirror as he brushes his teeth. He catches his eyes for a moment and realizes they’re his normal, brown eyes. This happens occasionally, but it’s rare. Luz doesn’t put too much thought into the oddity, just happy that he won’t have to wait for them to change before he can leave.

It’s windier than it had been yesterday, and Luz has to duck his head against the breeze as he makes his way down the street. The coffee shop is warm when he steps inside, and his skin tingles with the sudden change of temperature. 

As he is waiting for his order he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, he looks up and around the room. The shop is crowded though, and everyone he can see seems to be distracted by their phone, talking to the person they’re with, or falling asleep where they stand. His order is called before he can continue his search. He grabs his drink and quickly exits the building, not liking the strange feeling of being watched.

He hasn’t taken more than five steps out of the door when he hears his name.

“Geoooorge Luz!” Comes a voice he hasn’t heard in over five years. 

He looks up in surprise, and sure enough, David Webster is walking down the street toward him. He’s looking as unconvincingly cocky and self-assured as Luz remembers and he can’t decide if he wants to groan at the sight or hug the closest thing he’s ever had to a best friend in his life.

“David Webster…wow,” is all his mind supplies him with.

“It hasn’t been that long, has it?” Web says as he approaches.

“Jesus, yes it has,” he replies, but shakes Webster’s outstretched hand. “How’ve you been Web? You look…exactly the same.”

It’s true, Webster has always been handsome and young looking, and five years hasn’t changed that a bit. His pretty blue eyes don’t look any dimmer and there’s nothing to indicate time has passed since they said goodbye to each other, after they moved out of their shared apartment, to this moment.

“You look a little rough,” Web responds, honestly. And while Luz knows he’s right he can’t help but remind himself of why Web had just as hard a time making friends as Luz always has. “Are you still smoking?”

Luz rolls his eyes at Webster, he always gave Luz shit about his smoking. “I’m down to a pack a day,” Luz tries to assure him, and realizes how quickly they’ve fallen back into their old arguments.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, before Webster can find another aspect of his life to criticize.

“Oh, uh, I’m in town for work,” Web explains, looking abashed. Luz figures maybe he feels guilty for not calling to tell him he was coming, and if they hadn’t randomly met out on the street they may never have even seen each other. He doesn’t really blame Webster though, he’s not sure if he would have called either.

The sad thing is, if anyone were to ask Luz who his best friend is or was, he’d have to say David Webster. And unless Webster somehow was able to find anyone willing to tolerate him for longer than an hour in the last five years, he’d probably have to claim Luz as his best friend as well.

 

They were roommates their freshman year of college and despite the differences in their personalities they always seemed to share a similar difficulty dealing with other people. 

Luz, up to that point, had spent most of his life with only his family. He hadn’t been allowed to go to any of his classmate’s houses after school, unlike his brothers and sisters, and nobody, not even his sibling’s friends, had been allowed to come to their house. By fifth grade, his mother had pulled him out of school and began homeschooling him. When he started to get brochures in the mail for colleges he had begged his parents for months to let him go. 

Finally, his father had stepped in on his behalf and convinced his mother to let George leave. But with their acceptance came a stipulation. His mother told him that they would pay for his four years of college, they’d even send him enough money to live off for food and other bills. But if he left home, and they paid for everything for him, he could no longer come home and once he graduated they would cut all financial and personal ties. 

“With you out there, I don’t want anything…bad to happen, and for people to then come back and hurt my family,” she had explained coolly.

Luz hadn’t been sure what she thought he might do, they never talked about it, never put the label on what he was. All he had known was there was something inside of him that could make him do bad things.

He hadn’t needed to consider his options long before choosing to leave.

His father and sister had helped him move into his dorm, leaving him with a hug from his sister and a handshake from his father. It was the last time he’s seen anyone in his family. While in school, he had received birthday cards each year from his father and siblings. And when he graduated he got a card from his father with a hundred-dollar bill. That had been the last time he’d heard from any of them. 

He doubts they even know where he lives now.

The day he had moved into his dorm, left alone to sit on his bed, he had been clutching at his chest, on the verge of tears, when his door burst open. In walked a kid his age, with dark hair and a handsome face, trailed by what looked like movers instead of family members or friends.

David Webster’s parents hadn’t disowned him the way Luz’s had, but they hadn’t had much interest in him either. He had been sent to several different schools over the years, due to his family moving a lot, and had never been able to make any real friends at any of them. Webster had often mused that his inability to connect to other human beings came from the fact that he had always been so much more cultured than those around him. Luz had assured him that it was most likely due to his insufferable personality.

Because of Luz’s inexperience with people, and the fact that he seemed to create a general sense of unease around himself, and Webster’s continued personality flaws, neither of them had been successful at making any real friendships at college either. So, stuck together and barely tolerating each other, but with a shared camaraderie of loneliness bonding them, they had been able to navigate life as reluctant best friends. They continued to be roommates for their sophomore year, and then moved into an apartment together for their final two years.

During their senior year, Webster had been taking some kind of history class where they focused on people with abilities, if the rants Webster came home with every other day were anything to go by. 

“You don’t understand, Luz, they rounded up and murdered them all!” Luz remembers Webster yelling one night, after Luz had asked him to shut the fuck up as he had been trying to finish writing his paper. 

“It was a genocide and nobody talks about it. A whole group of people just wiped out. There are no more Mimics anymore and everyone acts like they weren’t just treated like cattle sent to be slaughtered!”

Luz had rolled his eyes. “There are no more Mimics anymore because they created that cure to block it from forming in people’s genes.” He hadn't let himself wonder too hard about what had happened with him.

“But what happened to all the existing Mimics? One day they’re here, the next there are no more Mimics, and we’re just supposed to believe they all died of natural causes at the same time or something?”

“Why does it matter? They were Mimics, they were bad people,” Luz had argued, standing in his doorway, watching Webster pace back and forth, worrying about an issue that had occurred almost a century earlier.

“Just because someone was a Mimic didn’t make them bad, not all Mimics were murderers and identity thieves and psychopaths. And even if Mimics had been bad, they were still human beings, and you can’t just round up a group of human beings and kill them!”

“Webster, take a different history class, genocide hasn’t exactly been a one-time thing.”

“I know that,” Webster had argued. “It’s just…this seems to be one that nobody even knows about, or if they do know about it, nobody cares!”

Luz had shrugged. “Like I said, they were Mimics.”

That hadn’t been the last of Webster’s passionate outcries over the injustices against people with abilities. Luz had learned long before then to just let Webster run through one of his tirades, he’d eventually wear himself out and move on.

 

He is brought back to the present moment when he remembers he has to get going.

“You know, I gotta get to work, but it was nice seeing you,” Luz says, sidestepping Webster.

“Oh, well, we should go out, get drinks while I’m in town. How about Friday?”

Luz deflates a little at the prospect, but he knows he should. He gives Webster the address of the bar he was at last night and they exchange phone numbers, agreeing to set a time once they each take a look at their schedules.

They say a quick goodbye and Luz makes his way to his office. Walking in, he receives his normal greeting from his coworkers; a small hello from Christenson, a nod from Wynn, and no reaction from Ramirez. Just like every morning.

-  
  


The attractive guy from the other night is at the bar again, as Luz waits for Webster to meet him. The guy is more in his peripheral vision this time, so he’s able to be a little stealthier in checking him out than he had been the other night. 

It’s because he’s able to see him better that Luz notices that the guy looks up any time someone enters the bar, like it’s a habit he can’t break, as he doesn’t seem to react as though he’s waiting on anyone in particular.

But at one point when the door opens again, and a tall, thin man walks in, Luz notices the new patron and his attractive stranger’s eyes meet and widen for just a moment before they look away from each other and make no sort of acknowledgement that they know each other. It’s quick enough that if Luz hadn’t been paying attention he wouldn’t have even noticed, but he had and now he’s extremely curious. Was it just a spark of attraction? Was there an awkward one-night stand in their past? Are they exes who haven’t seen each other in years?

He knows he’s assuming a lot about both men. Maybe they’re old coworkers who didn’t get along. Or one of them was cheated on by their partner with the other. Or maybe they’re part of an underground fight club where sharing names and the existence of said club is strictly prohibited.

Luz is distracted from creating more outlandish theories by his phone getting a text. 

It’s Webster, saying he’s going to be just a few more minutes late. Luz rolls his eyes and sets his phone back down, wondering if he should order another drink. Dealing with David Webster completely sober is almost never a good idea.

 

He thinks back to one night during their last year of college, a week before final exams. They had gone out to a few of the local college hangouts, hoping to meet anyone else to hang out with than just each other. But, as always, they had plenty of people come up to them - neither Luz nor Webster had a problem attracting people - it was keeping them around that was always an issue. They had gone home together, without any new friends or hookups, so they continued drinking in their apartment.

It had led to one of their very few moments of genuine, deep discussions. They both admitted to their mutual disappointment that they were about to graduate from college with only each other as their friend.

It was then that Webster had turned to him, his face serious, “George, you’re my best friend,” he had said, “so I need to tell you something, and you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

Luz had shrugged, “who would I tell?”

“I’m serious, you can’t share what I’m going to say with anyone.”

“Fine, I won’t say anything to anyone about your secret, now what is it?”

Webster had looked around, as if they might have had someone spying on them, and leaned in closer. “I think…I think that I’m an Empath.”

Luz’s eyes had widened and he had wanted to laugh. There was no way that David Webster was an Empath. To be an Empath he’d have to have any sort of understanding of anyone’s feelings but his own, when in reality it often took a while for Web to read a room and realize when he was unwanted.

But because they had been having a nice moment and Luz hadn’t wanted to ruin it by laughing in his face, he had just nodded and assured, “I won’t tell anyone, Web, I promise.”

Webster had looked so relieved and Luz had wanted to roll his eyes; Webster had no idea what it felt like to actually be hiding who he was.

“Thank you, George. I’m so glad I was able to get that off my chest. Now, if there is anything you’d like to admit, I promise it’s safe with me.”

Every once in awhile, Luz had noticed that Web would make a comment like that, as though he had known Luz’s secret, he just had wanted him to admit it to him. But by that age Luz had understood what admitting to being a Mimic would mean, even to someone as sympathetic to them as David Webster. It had never crossed his mind to share that secret with him, it was something he’d planned to take with him to his grave.

“I haven’t had sex since sophomore year, and I mean like…anything,” Luz had confessed.

Webster had sat back, blinking owlishly for a few moments, the topic of conversation had obviously changed from where he had planned on it heading.

“Shit,” he had eventually responded.

 

Luz is pulled from his hazy memory of those drunken confessions when he sees his attractive stranger approaching. He tries to keep his heart rate from spiking, trying to convince himself that he isn’t coming to talk to him, he’s just coming up to get a drink or something. But the guy stops right next to him, turning his body so that he’s looking out toward the room, but leaning in. 

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” the stranger asks, quietly.

Luz is struck by two things at the same time. The stranger has possibly one of the best voices he’s heard. Low and throaty, it reminds Luz of smoke. Also, the stranger apparently has no game, if this is his attempt to pick him up. But Luz is charmed by the weirdness and he’s already slightly turned on just from the voice and proximity alone, so he just nods his head in response.

The stranger gestures his head toward the hallway leading to the bathrooms and the back door and Luz stands to follow.

The guy stops walking once they’ve reached the back door and turns to look a Luz, his dark eyes scanning both Luz and their surroundings thoroughly. 

Deciding they’re really alone, he crowds into Luz’s space and Luz is having a hard time breathing, already.

Just as he thinks the stranger is going to close the small gap between them, the stranger, instead, leans over so that his lips are nearly brushing his ear. Luz closes his eyes, knowing where this is going.

“The man at the bar with the green tie, did you see him?” 

Luz’s eyes open. So… _ not  _ where he thought this was going. It takes him a second to wrap his head around the question. He thinks back to the people at the bar, and remembers that there was a man, probably in his late forties or early fifties sitting a few seats down from him, with a green tie on.

“Uh, yes?”

“Do you know him?”

Luz is so confused; this is not really going the way he had hoped. He shakes his head in response.

The stranger pulls away a little, and Luz can see his dark eyes. 

“’Cause he’s been looking at you all night.”

Luz grins, finally feeling like he gets it. 

“Are you jealous?” he asks, stepping back into the guy’s space.

The guy just tilts his head before looking down at his watch.

“I need you to come with me,” he says instead, putting his arm around Luz so that his hand is resting on his lower back.

“Yeah, what do you think I’m doing here?” Luz jokes. But the next moment he is being led out of the bar, the stranger gently steering him into the parking lot that is right out back.

Once his brain has processed that he’s outside he finally stops walking.

“Wait, what’s happening?”

Before the stranger can respond, a car pulls up next to them. The stranger steps away from him and tugs the back door open, motioning for Luz to get in.

Luz’s heart rate picks up again, but this time for a very different reason. He’s never been this careless before. 

“Hey, you know what, I’m just going to go back inside,” he says, raising his hands, hoping to placate the man.

“Get in.”

“Yeah, no, I’m good. Thanks.” Luz is trying to figure out the best option to get away, he’s almost sure that he’s not going to be able to get back in through the back door that he just stepped out of. He needs to be able to make it to the front of the bar before this guy can catch him.

“I’m serious, get in.” The stranger looks genuinely confused, like he’s surprised that Luz isn’t excited to jump into a car with two people he doesn’t know. It’s one thing to make out with a hot stranger in the back of a bar, it’s another thing entirely to get into a car with the guy and some unknown driver.

Luz can’t see the driver’s face but he hears him when he speaks up. “Come on, we have to go,  _ now. _ ”

“You guys go on, I have a friend I’m meeting, he’s probably in there waiting for me right now.” He’s never been so grateful to Webster than he is in this moment. This is one of the few times in his life that someone will actually notice that he’s missing.

He begins to back away, hoping the guy won’t notice for long enough that he can make a run for it. But he doesn’t get far before he feels strong arms wrap around his middle and tug him toward the car. 

Luz starts to scream but one of the arms unwraps itself and a hand covers his mouth.

He tries thrashing and fighting as hard as he can, but the guy’s hold is like a vice. He and the stranger basically fall inside the car. The stranger uncovers his mouth just long enough to close the door. Luz tries to scream for help, tries to pull and kick and struggle against the stranger’s hold, but the car is speeding off now and he’s beginning to feel completely fucked.

They only drive for a couple of minutes before the car screeches to a halt. Luz tries to yell for help again, still pointlessly struggling against the stranger’s hold, when the passenger side door opens. The stranger clamps his hand over Luz’s mouth again and pulls him back, away from the newest occupant of the car. As soon as the door closes, the car speeds off again and the new guy starts yelling.

“What the hell happened? I was supposed to talk to him! This is not how we planned this!” 

Luz stops screaming and fighting for a moment, recognizing that voice, and he moves around enough so that he can see the profile of David Webster’s face.

“Web? Web! What the fuck?” Web turns to look at him, guilt clear on his face, but his attention is brought back to the driver as he starts talking.

“We couldn’t wait, that agent I’ve been tailing somehow found out about him and we had to move.”

Luz is truly terrified now. He at least had the small speck of hope that Webster would have people out looking for him when he couldn’t find him. Now, it’s looking like Web is the reason he’s here.

“Webster, what the fuck did you get me into?” he yells, trying to stick his elbow into the stranger’s chest, but the stranger just holds Luz’s arms tightly to his sides.

“Luz, just…relax, okay?” Webster says, not turning around.

“Fuck you! Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“He better be what you say he is, Webster,” the stranger speaks up, his voice tense from keeping Luz restrained. 

Webster turns in his seat completely to look directly at Luz.

“I’m positive, he’s a Mimic.” 

George’s stomach drops out. While none of this has been good, he at least couldn’t be sure what they wanted with him. But he’s heard stories about the things people do to individuals that they claim they thought were Mimics. Torture and horrific deaths that they had felt justified in doing just because they had believed the person had been a Mimic, though none had ever been able to prove it. Now he knows what they want from him and he can’t actually prove that he’s  _ not _ a Mimic.

Somehow, whether Luz caught him off guard or his anger at Webster fuels him, he’s able to pull himself from the stranger’s hold and reaches up to punch Webster in the face. The angle is a little awkward, but he’s able to make contact and Webster cries out.

He’s grabbing and pulling and trying to hit Webster as much as he can, but the car begins to swerve and the stranger pulls him into the back again, wrapping his arms and legs around his flailing limbs so he can’t move at all.

“You motherfucker! You son of a bitch!” Luz still screams out, trying to kick and hit Webster who is cowering in the front seat. 

The driver is also yelling, steadying the car again, and the stranger seems to be responding, but Luz is too busy trying to murder Webster to even comprehend their words.

When he realizes he’s not going to be able to get at Webster again he tries pleading with the other two. 

“Please, please, he’s…he’s obsessed with this shit ok? Don’t listen to him, he’s out of his fucking mind. Please, I’m not a Mimic, please!”

“George! We’re not going to hurt you, just trust me!” Web finally yells, one hand against his bloody lip. And Luz is glad he was able to do some damage.

“Fuck you, Web! Please, guys, I’m not a Mimic. This guy, this guy is crazy about this shit okay? He used to think he was an Empath,” he tries to plead with the two strangers again, hoping their relationship with Web is weak enough that he can convince them that Web isn’t to be trusted.

The driver just snorts and looks over at Webster, whose face colors a little in embarrassment. Other than that nobody reacts or seems to care about anything Luz has to say. He feels sick, imagining the things they might do to him once they get to wherever they’re going. He remembers reading a news article once about a group of people who were arrested for burning a man alive, claiming he had been a Mimic.

After a minute of driving in silence the stranger holding on to him speaks quietly against his ear, “we really aren’t going to hurt you.”

Luz tries to pull himself free again, but can barely move, so he’s not exactly filled with confidence by his words. “Fuck you, man,” he says in response. The stranger just sighs and tightens his hold.

 

They drive for another fifteen minutes or so, Luz sporadically trying to loosen the guy’s hold on him, but to no avail.

The car pulls into a subdivision, not really where Luz had expected them to take him, but he supposes that violent Mimic-haters live in houses too. They turn into a gravel alleyway, stopping outside the back of what looks more like an office building than a house and Webster jumps out of the car to open the back door of the building. He then runs to the back of the car to help the stranger pull Luz out.

Luz picks up steam again, thrashing and yelling and kicking anything he can, attempting to break away. But, once again, a hand is pressed over his mouth and he’s lifted off the ground and hauled inside the building.

Inside, it looks like an old newspaper office, a bullpen set up in the middle of the room, with a few stairs leading up to offices that line the wall all the way around the large room.

There are a couple people sitting at desks in the bullpen and he yells out to them, pretty sure it won’t do any good, but he has to try.

He sees the faces of the people in the bullpen, all looking concerned, but none make a move to help him. 

Webster and the stranger pull him into one of the offices and close the door behind them.

There are four men waiting for them when they enter.

Sitting behind the desk is a red-haired man, his brow furrowed and looking worried. Standing next to him is a dark-haired man, his jaw lined with stubble, and his eyes look tired, but he seems amused. Off to the side is another dark-haired man, thinner than the other and his stare is hard and intense. Next to him is a lighter haired man, who looks even more worried than the redhead.

The stranger pushes him down into the chair in front of the desk the redhead is sitting at and keeps a hand on Luz’s shoulder, so Luz doesn’t try to stand back up. 

 

“Well,” the amused man starts. “I guess that didn’t really go as planned.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

 

_ “Well,” the amused man starts. “I guess that didn’t really go as planned.” _

 

Webster huffs loudly, looking as indignant as possible while also holding a tissue to his bleeding lip. 

“I was on my way, but the agent Lieb has been following just happened to show up. So these two got a little jumpy and decided to just grab him and go,” he explains with a scowl.

The stranger sighs, “I’d been watching all night, this guy had his eyes on him the whole time. If he’d heard even a fraction of the conversation that Web was planning on having with him, he would have taken him right there. We didn’t have a choice. Plus, he was fine when we left, I asked him to come with me and he followed along, it was just when we needed to get in the car that he started freaking out.”

Everyone looks slightly confused by that and if Luz wasn’t overwhelmed by his fear he might feel embarrassed, because the guy hadn’t even  _ known _ that Luz thought he was propositioning him, he hadn’t even been trying to conduct some kind of ruse. 

The only person in the room who doesn’t look confused is the guy with light hair, Luz can see now that he has a scar across his cheek. 

“We promise we aren’t going to hurt you, Mr. Luz,” he says, his voice probably soothing in any other context. 

And yeah, Luz has been hearing that for a while now and he still isn’t swayed. 

“Please, whatever Webster told you, he-he’s confused okay? I’m not a Mimic. Please. I knew this guy like five years ago, I haven’t seen him since. When I knew him, he was starting to become obsessed with this kind of shit, you know, all those people with abilities, especially the Mimics, he used to call the elimination a-a Mimic genocide. He’s just, he uh…he’s projecting, you know, I think he thought we were some kind of mutant pair that he dreamed up. He’s a writer, okay? This is what he does. Please…fuck, I swear, I  _ swear  _ I’m not…please.” His begging is starting to devolve, but the panic is back in his chest at full force and he feels like he can’t really breathe.

Though it seems like maybe his begging is working, because everyone is looking at Web now, who is shifting where he stands. 

“His eyes, they change colors! He wakes up with different eye colors all the time. And it’s not just that, there’s more, I swear. I lived with him for four years, I know he is,” Webster protests, speaking directly at the redhead sitting at the desk. 

Everyone is still looking at Webster, a little unsure, and Luz is starting to feel a fraction of hope, before the light-haired guy speaks up again.

“No, there’s…there is something there with him. I couldn’t say what, but I can feel it. We’ll need to have Roe check him.”

The redhead sighs and speaks for the first time. “He’s not going to let Roe do anything to him, he already thinks we’re going to kill him. We need to explain.” 

The other dark-haired guy, the one looking much less amused by this whole scene, finally speaks. “If he’s not a Mimic, and we tell him what we’re doing, he could be a liability. We don’t need passengers on this, especially ones who don’t trust us.” 

The redhead looks Luz over for a moment, before looking to the light-haired man. “Lip, what do you think?”

“There’s something there,” the man says again. “I think we have to take the risk.”

The stoic, dark-haired man just sighs but doesn’t argue further.

The redhead looks back to Luz, sending him a kind smile, but Luz isn’t convinced.

“Mr. Luz, we are all sorry for what you’ve been through tonight, and I know you won’t believe me, but please know that you are not going to be harmed while you are here with us,” the man says.

“Then can I leave?” He knows he’s probably pushing his luck, but he hates this, he hates this mind game they’re playing on him, and he’s starting to wish they’d just threaten him so he’d understand what is going on.

The man hesitates for a moment. “No,” he finally says, shaking his head slowly. “It’s not safe for you. Do you know what the SAS is?”

Luz wants to scoff, both at the question and at the idea of him being more safe around a group of strangers who brought him back to their weird, suburban headquarters because they think he’s a Mimic. 

“Yeah, it’s that Special Abilities Services agency,” he answers, remembering all the ridiculous PSAs they used to show for the SAS when he was a kid. Luz remembers two simultaneous ads they used to run. One told kids to run and tell an adult if they thought someone might have a special ability and to not approach the person. While another attempted to espouse the idea that people with abilities were not likely to harm them, and were just like everyone else. They’d been extremely confusing messages to take in as a child.

Now that he’s older, the only time he hears about the SAS is either when they’re advertising themselves as providing support for individuals and their families that live with abilities, or when there are protests being reported due to a supposed registry of people with abilities that the SAS would enforce if the legislation for it passed. Honestly, the agency hasn’t become any less confusing to him than it was when he was a kid.

The redhead nods. “There was a man at the bar you were at tonight, who is an SAS agent, we believe that he was there to either observe you or to take you in.”

Luz blinks, trying to wrap his head around what that means. “How do you know we weren’t just at the same place at the same time?”

“That’s a pretty big coincidence,” the amused, dark-haired man speaks up. 

Luz remembers what the stranger had said to him before they left ‘ _ he’s been looking at you all night’,  _ Luz had thought it was just a weird way for the guy to play with a possessive kink he had, but now it’s starting to fit.

“So…you guys brought me here because an SAS agent maybe thinks I’m a Mimic too?” he asks, trying to navigate these waters without admitting the truth.

“We founded this group to protect people with abilities from government agencies like the SAS,” the redhead explains.

Luz laughs a little at that. “Protect people from the Special Abilities Services? Isn’t their primary function to hand out pamphlets?”

“Did you know that the SAS isn’t under Health and Human Services?” The serious looking guy asks. “It’s actually a part of the DSS, which is a branch in the Department of Defense. Why would an agency set up to provide service to a certain type of people be run under the same department that’s main focus is National security?” 

He’s a little stunned by that revelation. “Politics?” he jokes, extremely uncomfortable with this whole situation, but he’s starting to feel a little less like that this group’s main goal is to kill him. 

“The SAS was formed in 1897 in order to round up and eradicate all known Mimics, by 1904 there were no reports of any more Mimics in the United States, and over 150 countries have followed similar steps.”

“Yeah, I lived with Webster for four years, I know all about the supposed ‘genocide’ okay?” Jesus, he didn’t realize he was also going to get a history lesson today, and here he is without a textbook and school supplies.

The dark-haired man scowls. “This may not be on the scale of other mass genocides the world has seen, but hundreds of thousands of people were killed because of their genetic makeup. I would have thought that you would have a little more sympathy toward people who were killed for being just like you.”

“I’m not a fucking  _ freak _ Mimic, okay?” he yells, getting sick of the accusations, even if they are true. He’s never been called a Mimic so many times in his life and the insult is starting to weigh on him.

The man just glares, but doesn’t say anything else.

The redhead sighs. “We’re going about this all wrong. Mr. Luz, let me start over. My name is Dick Winters, my partner,” he motions to the dark-haired man beside him, “is Lewis Nixon. We started this group to help people with abilities. All we want to do is to keep you safe from a group that we know wants to harm you. Whether you are or not, we believe that the SAS have you marked as a suspected Mimic.”

Luz opens his mouth, to deny being a Mimic again, but Winters just holds his hands up, placating, and Luz closes his mouth again.

“If they got their hands on you, they'd most likely detain you, probably forever.” Winter’s starts, moving around to the front of his desk. “They would most likely conduct tests on you to determine whether you are a Mimic or not, if it turned out you weren’t, they wouldn’t be able to just let you go, and risk having you tell the media that a government agency is in the habit of abducting and testing citizens based on a hunch. If it turned out you were a Mimic…the best-case scenario for you would be that they’d kill you.”

Luz flinches. “ _ That’s _ the best case?”

Winters nods. “If you were a Mimic, you would be the only known Mimic in the world, at least to our knowledge. They most likely wouldn’t want to kill you, they’d want to study you, do tests on you. They’d keep you around to be their lab rat. That is,  _ if _ you were a Mimic.”

Luz’s breathing has picked up again, it’s not as though he hasn’t thought of that scenario. But it’s always been more of an abstract idea, just another thing to fuel his anxiety and keep him from outing himself. Now, it’s starting to feel real, and if these people are right, he’s pretty much screwed regardless. 

“Well, either way I’m fucked, right? If I’m not a Mimic you guys will just cut me loose, and then they’ll pick me up and lock me up forever. If I…if I was a Mimic…what, I mean, what would you want with me?” He licks his lips and his eyes dart around the room. It’s the first time in his life he feels like he might be safer being a Mimic than not.

“First things first, no matter what you are, whether you have an ability or not, we will still work to protect you from the SAS,” Winters assures him. 

Luz nods, trying to let Winters’ steady voice and reassuring words calm him down some.

“And if you  _ are _ a Mimic, we…we just want to protect you, to help you control your gift. We would…well, we’d like for you to join us.”

“So, I’ll have to work for you?” he asks, realizing too late that he didn’t deny being a Mimic this time. 

“Well…no, we’re not going to force you to work with us,” Winters pauses, looking over at his partner for a moment, they have a short, silent conversation before Winters looks back to him. 

“We’d want you stay here while the threat against you is still high, but you don’t have to join our organization, hopefully, in time, you’ll want to. Right now, though, your safety is our main priority.”

“If I’m a Mimic,” Luz adds.

“Luz,” Webster speaks up, moving from where he’s been standing next to him so that he’s facing him. His lip has stopped bleeding, but he’s still clutching the bloody tissue in his hand. “You know me, and what I believe in. Doesn’t it make more sense that I would join a group of people wanting to help people with abilities than a group wanting to hurt them?”

And, well, that’s true. He knows Webster, and doesn’t think he’s the type to completely change his worldview in the past five years, not from something he had been so passionate about. Plus, Winters seems to be forthright and trustworthy enough, and there’s something about the intensity in which the still nameless dark-haired guy spoke about the Mimic genocide that makes Luz think he believes in it as well.

“So you’re all just a group of good Samaritans then?” he asks, trying to hold onto the last bit of his cynicism he holds towards them.

“Actually, I’m an Empath,” the light-haired man says, stepping toward him more.

Luz’s eyes widen. He’s never met an Empath before, or at least he’s never known anyone to be an Empath.

The man smiles. “It’s purely selfish that I work with this group,” he jokes. Luz catches himself smiling. 

Luz wants to ask the man a thousand different questions, he feels an immediate connection to him, like he might understand.

“I’m not the only one, there are others here who have abilities, who are working with us to help others and themselves.”

Luz’s stomach swoops; there’s more of them. More people that he may actually be able to relate to in some way.

He takes a deep, shaky breath before looking away from the Empath, toward the rest of the group. “Okay, I…I may be…” he has to take another deep breath, he’s never admitted this out loud before. 

“It’s…possible that I’m a Mimic,” he admits, choking out the words as it feels like his heart has lodged itself into his throat.

Nobody looks shocked, or horrified, or malicious at his words. In fact, they all look pleased. Winters offers him a proud looking smile, and Nixon’s amused smirk turns a little more sincere. The Empath also offers him a smile, and looks like he might pat him on the back if Luz were closer. The dark-haired man still looks stoic, but his nod feels supportive. Webster is practically beaming at him. He can’t see the reaction of the stranger, who he can still feel the presence of right behind him.

Winters looks past him and nods to the stranger. “Could you get Roe?” 

The stranger doesn’t respond, but Luz can hear his departure a moment later.

The Empath finally walks closer, holding out his hand for Luz to shake. “Carwood Lipton, Lipton is fine,” he introduces himself. 

“Luz,” he responds needlessly as he shakes his hand, the guy already knows his name.

Luz turns around finally when the stranger returns with another man. He’s got dark hair and pale skin, his face is serious and he eyes the room before his stare lands on Luz.

“George, this is Dr. Eugene Roe, he’s one of our resident experts on all of this,” Winters says, motioning to the new man. “If you’re comfortable with it, we’d like him to run a few tests on you. Nothing too invasive, just a couple of things so we can determine if you really are a Mimic.”

Part of Luz’s brain is still trying to remind himself that letting complete strangers conduct tests on him is not the best course of action. But he’s decided to trust them, so he may as well go all out with it. He takes a deep breath and stands up.

“Well, Doc, where do you need me?”

Roe smirks a little at that. “We can go to my office.” His voice comes out in a deep, southern,  _ no, _ Cajun, drawl that surprises Luz. 

So he just nods and follows the doctor out of the office and down the hall, away from the rest of the men. 

His heartbeat begins to pick up again; he’s always hated going to the doctor, avoiding it when possible. He’d always been afraid of what they’d find out about him. He supposes this will be different, since this one already knows.

When they walk in to Roe’s office Luz is reminded more of a dentist’s office than a doctor’s. There’s a desk and computer set up against one of the walls, and a line of cabinets and a counter running across the far wall, leading to a sink with a mirror over it. But instead of an examination table in the middle of the room, there is what looks to be an old dentist chair.

“You can take a seat there,” Roe points to the chair. 

Luz nods and sits down, fighting the urge to open his mouth to show the doctor his teeth.

Roe sits down on his wheeled chair and moves closer to Luz. “So, I’m going to take a few samples of your blood. And I’m going to do a simple examination on you. Is that alright?”

Luz shrugs, not actually feeling nearly as anxious as he figures he should be. “I guess.”

Roe nods and turns toward the counter to get the supplies needed.

“So…how’d you get involved with this group?” Luz asks.

“They recruited me, like you. Well, not exactly like you.” Roe adds, Luz grins a little in response, able to appreciate the ridiculousness of what’s just happened to him.

“So, does that mean you’re an Empath too?”

Roe shakes his head. “I’m a Healer,” he responds easily.

Luz’s eyes widen again. He’s heard about Healers, but they’re so rare that some people don’t even believe they exist. There has been some controversy in the past, of people complaining that more Healer’s don’t come out of hiding to save people. While others believe that anyone claiming to be a Healer is just a religious nut job that thinks they’re doing the Lord’s work. Luz has never really had an opinion on Healers one way or another. Though the idea that someone can lay their hands on someone who is dying and heal them is pretty remarkable.

Roe grimaces at the look on Luz’s face. “I’m gonna guess you don’t know much about Healer’s other than what they show in movies, huh?”

Luz shakes his head.

“Well, I’ll start by sayin’ this, Healer ain’t a great name for what we can do, it’s a bit of a misnomer. Kinda like how scientists say that if Mimics were around today we wouldn’t be calling ‘em that. I can’t heal someone’s wounds or just bring ‘em back to life or anything like that.”

Luz nods. “So then what do Healers do?”

Roe sighs. “You know how you haven’t felt nearly as nervous as you’d been earlier?”

Luz is a little unsure of how Roe could know that, but it’s true so he can’t argue. “Yeah, that’s what you do? Keep people calm?”

“Sort of. It’s not something I try to do, it’s just something Healer’s give off, I guess. And then there’s also the fact that you haven’t even noticed that I’m drawing blood from you.”

Luz looks down, startled to see a needle in his arm, his blood flowing into a vial. Even now, seeing the needle, he can’t feel it at all. The only thing he can feel is the light pressure of Roe’s fingers against his forearm. 

“Holy shit.”

“So, I can’t heal your wounds, but I can make it so you don’t feel any of ‘em,” Roe says with a shrug, his concentration going back to finishing his task.

“You’re like a human morphine shot.”

Roe laughs, “somethin’ like that, yeah.”

“How does it work?”

Luz watches Roe cap off the vial of his blood and remove the tube from his arm, still unable to feel a thing. He flexes his arm a little, to see if there is the usual tightness he feels after a blood withdrawal, but he still feels nothing.

“Well,” Roe starts off thoughtfully, once Luz’s blood has been put away safely. “There are a lot of theories. Healers are rare, and not many of us have been willing participants in scientific studies, so there's not much solid evidence on exactly how it all works. But, if I were doing research, I’d probably focus on endorphins. There must be something in our touch that can stimulate the release of endorphins in other people.”

“Whatever it is, you take this as your open invitation to put your hands on me whenever you feel like it, okay Doc?” Luz almost immediately regrets his joke, figuring he’s coming on a little strong, but Roe just chuckles and goes about grabbing things for his examination.

Roe checks Luz’s blood pressure, it’s lower than it would be if he wasn’t in the presence of a Healer, but it’s pretty standard for what it usually is. He checks Luz’s eyes and ears and reflexes, just like a regular examination, Luz isn’t sure why he needs to, but he’s not going to question the doctor.

They keep up a light, friendly conversation in between Roe’s questions about medications and allergies. Luz realizes that, Healer or not, he likes Roe. Not just because he feels at ease due to his abilities, but also his personality. And Roe seems to like him enough, if his reactions to his sometimes off the wall jokes are any indication. Having a friend like Roe definitely couldn’t hurt. 

Roe is in the middle of telling him a story about his time in school when he stops, his eyes widening as he looks at Luz.

“What?” Luz asks, feeling self-conscious at Roe’s stare.

“Look in the mirror.” Roe nods his head over to the corner of the room.

Luz walks over and takes himself in.

He grins when he sees his normal brown hair slowly turning orange.

“You got a thing for redheads, Doc?” he asks slyly, turning back to look at Roe.

Instead of being amused, or maybe embarrassed, Roe just looks confused, and maybe a little surprised. 

“Will you excuse me for a second?” Roe isn’t really asking, as he’s out of the office, closing the door behind him before Luz has a chance to even comprehend his words.

Luz’s heartbeat has picked up, a staccato pumping in his chest. He curses himself for being so cavalier about something like his Mimic abilities. Sure, everyone here knows about them, but it’s not like they’ve ever seen it in action. He’d gotten too comfortable too quick. He wishes he could blame it all on the Healer, on the calm that he created for him. It is partially that, but he also knows that he finally found someone who understands what it’s like to have special abilities, and maybe he had thought that it wouldn’t bother Roe as much. Apparently he’d been wrong. It’s one thing to be a Healer or an Empath, they don’t have the kind of history that Mimics do, of violence and corruption and greed. He needs to remember that knowing and understanding are different than accepting.

He doesn’t have to sit worrying for too long though, as Roe comes back in soon after, trailed by Lipton.

Roe doesn’t say anything, just nods his head in Luz’s direction. Luz wraps his arms around himself.

He is a little bit assured when he sees Lipton study him, noting the hair change, and then looking at Roe in question.

“He asked me if I liked redheads,” Roe provides as an explanation.

That startles a laugh out of Lipton and Roe finally looks a little embarrassed. Luz feels himself relax a little more.

“So?” Lipton asks when Roe doesn’t provide any more explanation.

“ _ So _ , he asked it  _ after _ his hair changed.  _ After _ I told him that his hair changed.”

“ _ Okay? _ ” Lipton says slowly, though he looks like maybe he’s starting to catch onto wherever it is Roe is trying to lead him to.

Roe is starting to look impatient. “George, your hair started to change while we were talking. What prompted it to change?”

Luz shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“What were you thinking about, when it happened?”

“Uh, I guess I was thinking that having a Healer as a friend might be helpful.” He’s a little embarrassed at his admission but his answer seems to spark something in Lipton.

“Your hair started to change when you thought about wanting Roe to like you?” Lipton asks, and Luz had hoped they didn’t need to get right into that.

But Roe appears thrilled at Lipton’s revelation. The two look at each other with wide eyes.

Luz is getting annoyed. “What’s the big deal? I mean, you guys were already pretty sure I’m a Mimic anyway,” he shrugs, trying to seem like it’s not bothering him as much as it actually is.

Roe looks a little crestfallen that Luz hasn’t figured out what they’re so shocked about.

“Yes, but how did you  _ know _ I have a thing for redheads?” He asks, taking a step toward Luz.

“Why else would my hair have turned orange?”

Roe looks frustrated, so Lipton steps up.

“George, you didn’t choose to make your hair change, did you? It changed to red without you trying, right?”

“So? That’s how it always works. Usually it’s my eyes, but sometimes it’s my hair or something else. They just kind of change to be what the person wants them to be, I guess.” 

Lipton and Roe look at each other in shock again and he’s just about had it. Even the presence of a Healer is not enough to keep his annoyance from bubbling up.

“Look, I’m sorry that I can’t just control it. This is just something that happens sometimes. Not always,” he adds the last part quietly.

Lipton smiles at him sympathetically. “We figured a lot of your abilities would be a bit latent, that they’d happen without much of your input, the way Webster told us your eyes changed when you dream. It’s just…”

Roe jumps in then, more excited than normal, and Luz has only known him less than an hour, but he can guess that the Doc does not get excited often. “It’s that you knew I have a thing for redheads, only  _ you _ didn’t know, your body knew, or whatever it is that controls these changes. George, we’re reacting this way because…this is Empath stuff. A Mimic, in theory, shouldn’t be able to jus’ discern people’s preferences or desires like that. And they shouldn’t jus’ be able to change somethin’ to that person’s preference without you meaning for it to happen, you would need to be conscious of that preference, and yet, there is no way you could’ve known that about me. I’ve…I’ve never heard of anything like this before.” 

Luz is stunned; he’s never really thought too much about that before, it’s just something he’s always done, he’d just assumed that was what being a Mimic was.

“So, I’m not a Mimic? I’m an Empath?” he asks, trying to keep the hopeful tone to a minimum. It’s still not great for him, but it’s infinitely better than being a Mimic.

“Oh no, you’re definitely a Mimic,” Roe replies, bluntly.

Lipton rolls his eyes at the doctor and walks closer to Luz. “But you may have some kind of Empath abilities in you too. Do you feel like you have a pretty good handle on other people’s feelings and emotional states? Do you sometimes feel overwhelmed around a bunch of people, as if your emotions have been drained out of you? Or you can be fine one minute but then, if you spend time with someone, you start to feel like you’re taking on their emotions?”

Luz thinks about that for a minute. “I don’t…I don’t know. I mean…maybe sometimes, but I-I guess, to be honest, I don’t spend too much time around other people.”

Lipton nods. “That’s understandable, I had a hard time being around people before I was able to control this.”

“I guess I’m still confused, so you’re saying I’m a Mimic  _ and _ an Empath?”

Roe responds. “We’ll have to run some extra tests, but it’s likely that you may be some kind of hybrid of the two. I’m gonna guess you only noticed the Mimic part ‘cause it’s more obvious. For Empaths and Healers, it can take a lot longer to realize that it’s not jus’ a regular personality trait that we can soothe people or understand ‘em well. But the fact that you can know someone’s type, and from what you’ve said, this isn’t the first time it’s happened, you have to be a pretty strong Empath to be able to do something like that.”

Roe has started pacing back and forth in the small office, his mind working through all the new information he’s received. “And with that mixing seamlessly with your Mimic abilities it’s really fascinating; you may truly be one of a kind.” He stops pacing a moment and his eyes light up, “you don’t think you may have any Healer abilities too, do you?”

Luz’s head is spinning. “Uh, I…I doubt it, I don’t think I’ve ever made anyone feel  _ calm _ before.”

Roe looks thoughtful, but before he can say anything Lipton speaks up.

“Do you think I could talk to Luz alone for a minute?”

Roe nods. “I’m just going to run some of these tests, see what’s in here.”

Once he is gone, Lipton looks at Luz apologetically. “He’s not usually like that, he’ll be embarrassed later by the way he reacted, he really didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Luz is about to brush it off, say that he is fine, before he remembers that Lipton is an Empath, he knows how Luz is feeling, there’s no reason to lie.

“I guess I’m just a little overwhelmed by all of this.”

Lipton nods in understanding, he motions for Luz to sit back down. “Do you mind if I ask you a few more questions about these changes that happen?”

“Yeah, alright.”

“So, you said your eyes and hair sometimes change color to what other people want them to be?” Lipton asks, sitting down at Roe’s chair.

Luz shrugs. “Yeah, sometimes.”

“Can you maybe give an example of someone wanting you to have different hair or eyes?”

Luz can feel his face flush. “It…it usually just happens when I’m… _ with _ someone,” he answers vaguely. 

Lipton nods, he seems to understand, and he doesn’t look judgmental, so Luz continues.

“I’ve never really been sure how it worked. But I’ve just found that when I’ve been in sorta…intimate situations I get a lot of comments on my eyes, usually something like ‘your eyes are my favorite color green,’ or ‘you have such blue eyes,’ or something that makes me know they’re not seeing  _ my _ eyes. I think…I think they’re the eyes of whoever they wish I was at the moment.” He feels pretty gross admitting that out loud, but it’s how it’s always been, and it’s not like he had any control over it.

“What happened to your eyes after that? When you saw the person again?” Lipton asks, still not looking at all like he’s judging Luz for this.

“Well, I’ll be honest, most of them I never saw again. The few that I did see, I think my eyes were my normal brown, cause they always seemed kind of disappointed, like maybe they remembered me wrong. They never stick around after that.”

Lipton looks thoughtful for a moment, his mouth twitching into a tense smile, almost like he meant to frown but his mouth is too used to turning up so it comes out as a smile instead.

“I think that we can really help you, Luz. I think we can help train you to control this, so you only change when you want to. We can train you to use your abilities better,” he tells him after a moment.

“Can you train me to never mimic anything again?” Luz jokes, though he really loves the thought of that.

Lipton send him another one of his twitchy smiles. “We can train you so that you can mimic a whole person, not just their eyes or hair.”

“Why would I want to know how to do that?” Luz asks, shuddering at the thought of transforming himself to completely look like another person. Scenes from ‘The Mimic’ pop into his head, and a chill runs down his spine.

“It’s an amazing ability that you have, Luz. Don’t discount its usefulness just because we’ve been told to believe that Mimics were all evil.”

Luz bites his tongue, wanting to argue against Lipton’s claims. Even though they just met, Luz likes Lipton, and he doesn’t want to get into a debate about the inherent awfulness of Mimics.

“So, what exactly do I need to do here?” Luz asks, changing the subject.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I know Winters said that I didn’t have to work for you guys, but then what is going to happen to me?”

“You’ll stay at our safe house that’s not too far from here. At least for now, until we know you won’t get picked up by the SAS.”

“I have an apartment. I pay rent on it, I can’t just keep paying for a place and not stay there,” Luz argues.

Lipton just nods. “We’ll have one of our agents sublet it. Does that sound okay?”

Luz shrugs; it’s not ideal, but it’s better than wasting all his money. “What about my job? Can I still go to work?”

“I think you’re gonna need to take some time off,” Lipton responds sheepishly.

“How much time?”

Lipton shrugs. “A few weeks?”

Luz blows out a breath. He has the vacation time, but he’s not sure telling his boss that he’ll be gone ‘indefinitely’ is going to cut it.

“You’ll work with a few of us to really hone and control your abilities. Especially now that I know you’re partially an Empath, I think I can really help you. We have another Empath who is going to help you with becoming more in tune with your abilities, and help you control them. Ron, um, Speirs…he’s the man that you didn’t really get to meet in Winters’ office earlier, he knows a lot about the history of Mimics, and I think it’d be good for the two of you to have a few sessions together. And I’ll bet you anything that Roe is going to want to drag you in here every once in while so he can learn as much about Mimics as possible. Now with this hybrid thing, well, I’ll make sure he doesn’t overwhelm you with questions.”

“So, I’m going back to school then?” Luz says, instead of the many other things he wants to say, such as ‘thank you’, or acknowledging Lipton’s stumble over Speirs’ name. He may need to store that information away until a more appropriate time.

Lipton grins. “Something like that.”

“And I don’t have to join you guys for real, right?” He asks, because he needs to be sure. In theory, he admires what they want to achieve, but Luz has never been interested in throwing himself into a fight. He just wants to keep his head down and survive. 

Lipton pauses at that. “No…no we’re not going to force you to join, everyone who is part of our organization does so voluntarily. But I will ask you to keep an open mind to it. You may feel inclined to join us eventually.”

Luz doubts it, but he nods anyway. He wonders how well Empaths can tell when someone’s lying.

If Lipton can tell, he doesn’t say anything, just nods his head and stands.

“You must be exhausted. Would you like to go back to the safe house and get some sleep?”

Until Lipton pointed it out, Luz hadn’t noticed, but now his eyes begin to feel sore and his whole body feels heavy.

 

Lipton leads him out of the office, and they look out over the bullpen. There are only two people there now, one is his stranger, the other is another redhead that he hasn’t seen before.

The stranger is sitting at one of the desk chairs, leaning his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. The redhead has a hand on his shoulder, speaking quietly to the stranger, whose head keeps shaking back and forth at the redhead’s words.

Luz feels a slight jolt buzz through his skin that he recognizes quickly as jealousy. He’s not sure why, but as he and Lipton approach the pair, he feels his eyes narrow at the redhead’s hand on the stranger’s shoulder.

As they get closer, the redhead looks up, grins and stands, finally removing his hand.

“You must be George Luz, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Don Malarkey, looks like we’re gonna get to work together some,” he says, holding out his hand for Luz to shake.

Luz hesitates for a moment, he realizes that this must be the other Empath Lipton had told him about, who is going to help him work on his control. He’d been looking forward to those sessions, now he has to deal with whatever this weird feeling is that he has toward the guy. 

He shakes Malarkey’s hand, but doesn’t say anything in response. He doesn’t appear to notice Luz’s odd thoughts toward him, but maybe he’s just really good at hiding what he can sense from other people.

“Luz is ready to go get set up over at the house,” Lipton says, and Luz looks over when he realizes he’s talking to the stranger.

“Don’t you think he’d rather have someone else take him?” the stranger responds, looking almost angry.

“Well, I guess that’s up to him. Luz, would you rather have someone else take you over to the house?” Lipton asks, looking at him expectantly.

“Why does someone have to take me to the house? Can’t you just give me directions?” Luz asks.

Lipton shakes his head. “We can’t have you walking around by yourself. If you’d feel more comfortable with someone else, I can call someone to come over to get you.”

Luz is still kind of confused, not really sure why this is even a conversation. 

Suddenly, he realizes what the issue is. The stranger thinks Luz won’t want to be escorted by him after what happened tonight. He has to stop and assess that, because he probably  _ should _ be nervous about going anywhere with the guy, but he’s not. He also probably  _ shouldn’t _ be jealous of some other guy touching him, but he is. So, apparently, Luz is all kinds of backwards when it comes to this stranger, still.

“I don’t mind going with you,” Luz answers with a shrug, looking down at the stranger.

The responding grins from both Lipton and Malarkey seem a little much, but Luz watches the stranger’s face turn from agitation to confusion.

“You sure?” the stranger asks, still looking wary.

Luz kind of wants to roll his eyes. “Yeah, man, let’s go,” he says, instead, nodding his head toward the exit.

The stranger stands, looking over at Malarkey for a moment. Luz starts walking off, in an effort to not send Malarkey a look of his own, sending a nod to Lipton in farewell.

As they walk outside Luz feels the cold October air hit his skin. He realizes he must have left his jacket at the bar. It’s only been a couple of hours, but it feels like it was days ago that he was sitting at the bar, reminiscing about his time in college, and eyeing the attractive stranger that is currently walking next to him down the alleyway from the old office building.

He really should feel more anxious, walking along a dark alley with the guy who kidnapped him. But, with a gut check, Luz realizes that not only does he not feel worried, he almost feels safe. 

For all of his faults, Luz has never felt like he was a poor judge of character, realizing that this may actually be due to the Empath abilities he might have. He’s never been overly trusting of anyone or careless with his own safety the way he has been with this stranger. Sure, he’s attractive, but Luz has met plenty of attractive guys before, and he’s never willingly followed them into dark alleys before. 

He looks over at the stranger, who has his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his face twisted into a slight scowl. He seems to be walking with purpose, but he also looks almost lost in thought and Luz can’t tell if he’s aware enough to notice when they reach their destination.

“Hey, are you alright?” Luz asks, reaching out to touch the stranger’s arm lightly.

The guy stops in his tracks, looking like maybe Luz pulled him out of a daze.

“What?”

“You seem…” he trails off, not really able to put a word to the vibes that the guy is giving off. So he asks again, “are you okay?”

The guy looks around them, like maybe Luz is talking to someone else, before letting out a frustrated sounding breath.

“Are  _ you _ ?” he asks instead of answering.

Luz shrugs. “It’s a lot to take in, but overall I’m actually not too bad, considering.”

The stranger shakes his head. “I’m sorry, for all of this. I’m sorry for scaring you and hurting you and…shit, just…I’m sorry.” 

Luz blinks a few times, realizing that this is what has the guy so distressed, and he feels a little bit warmer at the thought.

“Eh, don’t worry about it man, I’m sorry for hurting you too,” he says, trying to wave the guy’s worry off.

The stranger raises an eyebrow at that.

“I got a few hits in,” Luz insists, but from the guy’s reaction he didn’t do much, if any, damage to him. He reminds himself that he at least got Web.

“So, where exactly are we going?” he asks, after the guy doesn’t move or speak again.

That makes the guy grin a little. “Don’t worry, we’re almost there.”

He leads Luz down past a few more houses, before walking up to a tall wooden fence. Reaching behind a hidden opening in the wood, he pulls a wire and the fence opens slightly.

He pushes the fence open all the way and motions for Luz to go through first.  

Looking around, Luz notes that the backyard looks almost identical to all the other yards they just walked past. The yard isn’t particularly large, just enough for some grass and a tree. There is a garage off to the side, and a concrete walkway that leads up to a patio.  

The backdoor of the house is unlocked, and the stranger walks through first, holding the door open for Luz to walk in.

He steps onto a platform, seeing two options, there are stairs leading down to a basement, and a doorway leading to a bright kitchen. He can hear the sound of laughter and conversation that is coming out much louder than it probably needs to be.

The stranger rests a light hand on his back to lead him into the kitchen. Turning the corner, out of the kitchen, he can see into the dining room, where all the noise is coming from. There are four guys sitting around the table, playing some kind of card game. The conversation stops abruptly at the sight of him, and before any of the guys can say anything he feels hands come down onto both of his shoulders.

“This is Luz,” the stranger addresses the room. “He’s gonna be here a while,” he explains simply, then leads him away before anyone can respond.

Luz is pretty thankful for that, he feels like he might be overwhelmed with that group, and he’s really starting to feel the night wear on him. He is led past a living room, and he sees off of it, what he guesses is the front door. Through the living room is a long hallway, with doors all along it. 

“That’s the bathroom,” the stranger tells him, as they walk past one of the doors. He leads him all the way down to the last door and opens it. 

Luz looks around the bedroom, it’s sparsely decorated, with just the usual furniture of a bed, a dresser, and a side table. The bed is made up for him and he stares at it longingly.

“We’ll go get your stuff tomorrow,” the stranger tells him, still standing in the doorway.

Luz just nods and sits down on the bed. It’s nicer than he expected.

“It’s Toye, by the way,” the guy says, suddenly.

“Toy?” Luz asks, feeling like maybe he missed part of the conversation.

“Uh, with an e? My name. Joe Toye,” he explains.

Luz smiles. “Joe, nice to meet you.”

“Toye is fine.”

“You got it, Joe.”

Joe just rolls his eyes and leaves, closing the door behind him.

Now that he’s alone, he begins to feel some of the panic of what he is doing rush through him again. He takes a few deep breaths, attempting to calm himself down.

He takes off his shirt and pants and slides into the bed, hoping to relax himself. The mattress seems to mold itself around him and he can feel himself falling into sleep. 

Right before unconsciousness overtakes him he wonders if, before Joe had led him outside of the bar, his hair had started turning red.

  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Luz is pulled from sleep by a banging sound. He opens his eyes, the memory of the previous night flooding his mind, causing him to hesitate for a moment. The banging sound starts again, signaling to him the fact that someone is knocking on his door.

Blinking some of the sleep from his eyes, he gets out of bed, pulling on the pants and shirt he had left on the floor last night.

He hesitates for another moment, looking around the room for a mirror, but he remembers now that whoever is on the other side of the door already knows he’s a Mimic, so if his eyes are a different color, they aren’t going to be surprised.

Opening the door, he comes face to face with David Webster.

“You always did like to sleep in,” Web says in lieu of a normal greeting.

“What time is it?”

“A little past eight.”

Luz rolls his eyes. “Eight o’clock is not sleeping in, Webster.”

He knows for Webster it is though, even when he was in college, Web was always up and moving around by eight, usually earlier.

Web just shrugs, as they’ve had this argument too many times to have it again all these years later. 

“I figured you might want to run home and grab some clothes and other things, maybe grab some breakfast on our way?” Webster offers in explanation for the wake-up call.

He definitely wants to go get some new clothes to change into, and his toothbrush, and maybe he’ll bring his pillow back with him too.

 

Once Luz has woken up a little more and made himself as presentable as he can with the limited resources provided to him, they make their way out, running into a new guy in the living room.

“Oh, Luz, this is McClung, McClung, Luz,” Web introduces the two, motioning between them. 

Luz shakes his hand. “So what do you do here?” he asks as McClung follows them outside.

“Security, mostly, I usually pair up with Webster here. I’m giving Toye the morning off,” he explains, though not enough for Luz to really understand. The mention of Toye does remind him of the guy, and Luz kind of hopes last night wasn’t the last time they interact. He realizes he’s probably sleeping in, like Luz had wanted to, almost as tired as Luz is from yesterday’s ordeal.

Luz hesitates for a moment before getting into the backseat of McClung’s car and Webster turns from his place in the passenger seat to look at him.

“You okay?” he asks, his worried face still coming across looking more like confusion, Luz remembers that about him, which gives him some reassurance that not everything has changed.

Luz just nods and looks out the window at the passing houses.

-  
  
  


“You’re being quiet,” Webster points out as they sit across from each other at a café just a few blocks away from Luz’s apartment.

McClung chose to wait in the car and Luz is beginning to understand that he is acting more like a bodyguard, and not just some random co-worker of Web’s that is tagging along.

“I don’t really know what to say Web, this time yesterday I was at work, thinking I was just going to meet up with my old friend. Now I’m here, going to get my stuff so I can live in a safe house for who knows how long, because apparently both the government and some kind of rebel group knows my secret. What exactly do you talk about after that’s happened?”

“I’m sorry!” Web exclaims.

“You should be. You should have said something to me sooner. You should have come to me before you told your friends about me. Anything would have been preferable to what happened.” Luz sits back in his chair, scowling at Webster.

“I wasn’t going to tell them about you at all, but…but they mentioned something about rumors of a Mimic being passed around the SAS, and if it was you I didn’t want them to get to you first, and I know how you feel about all this stuff,” Web sighs, resting his hands on the table. “Telling them felt like the safest way to get you to come with us, I never imaged that agent would have already been so close to you too.” Something about Web’s eyes tells Luz he’s not giving him the entire story, but before he can ask, he notices Web’s hands for the first time, specifically his ring finger.

“You didn’t have that ring when I saw you before,” he says, nodding to Webster’s hand.

“Oh,” Web blinks a little at the change of topic, looking down at his hand. “Right, I took it off. It was actually going to be part of my pitch to you, to tell you all about us. Joe said the idea was too dramatic, but our relationship and marriage is pretty much tied into what we do. We met fighting for the same cause, and we joined the group together. I thought it might be a good story to introduce the group to you,” he explains, running his thumb across the surface of his wedding ring.

Luz is about to agree with Web’s husband, Web always has been the romantic type, but he stops when he realizes what he said.

“Wait, you’re married to Joe?”  _ What the hell? _

Web looks confused for a moment before shaking his head, realizing where Luz’s thoughts are at. “Oh god, no, not Toye. Joe Liebgott is my husband, he was the one that was driving the car yesterday. I don’t think you guys really met.”

Luz snorts, “no, I was a little busy thinking I was about to be taken to some creepy warehouse, tortured for a few days, and then killed. Introductions weren’t really my first concern.”

Web winces, “I really am sorry about all of this. I think…I think Toye figured you were just an idiot who agreed to follow him and would just do what he told you to do. When you stopped following, you guys were out in the open and I guess they kind of panicked, thinking that agent would spot you. I doubt he even realized you thought he was hitting on you.”

Luz groans and leans down in his seat. “Jesus, please don’t talk about that, I don’t need anyone to know I ignored all reasonable sense to my own safety just to hook up with some guy.”

Web grins around the lip of his coffee cup. “A pretty hot guy,” he says, after taking a sip.

“You are a married man.”

Web shrugs. “I still have eyes.”

Luz grins, remembering this, how Web and he actually were best friends at one point, in their own weird way, and that Web could  _ occasionally _ act like a completely normal human being when he wanted to. 

Web sets his napkin down and groans. “I don’t know why I try to eat pastries in the states anymore, once you’ve eaten in French bistros nothing quite compares.”

Luz sighs, and any of his nostalgic fondness is pretty much wiped away.

-  
  


Looking around his apartment, he feels a little overwhelmed. He’s packed as many clothes as he could fit into his suitcase, but he feels like he wants to take everything in his apartment with him. Now there’s some unknown person who is going to be living here and he has no idea what they’ll touch, or look at, or mess with. 

“Need any help with that?” McClung asks from where he’s been waiting out in the hallway. 

Luz sighs, knowing that he’s made the guy wait longer than he should have, and drags all the possessions he’ll have for the next who knows how long.

McClung grabs one of his bags and together they make their way down to the car where Webster is waiting.

On the drive back to the safe house Luz steels himself and calls his boss.

Mr. Meehan is a good boss, he’s nice and fair and is constantly trying to remind George to take his vacation days. 

Regardless, Luz’s sudden need for an extended vacation period is a pretty inconvenient. Luz claims to have a family emergency, which makes Webster turn to look back at him for a moment.

Mr. Meehan lets out a deep breath. “Okay, you go home to your family, George, we’ll manage without you for a couple of weeks. Just let me know as soon as you have an idea of when you’ll be back.

“I will, definitely. I’ll come back as soon as physically possible. Thank you, sir.”

“Sure thing, I hope everything turns out okay, and try to have some fun on your time off.”

“Thank you, I will,” Luz says before they hang up with each other. 

He breathes a sigh of relief, knowing that, at least for two weeks, he has some things under control.

-  
  
  


Luz is sitting on his new bed, having unpacked his meager amount of belongings, when there is a rapping on the propped open door.

He looks over to see Joe, standing in the doorway, looking like he’s not sure if he should enter.

“Hey,” Luz greets him, realizing a grin has spread across his face.

Joe responds with a tight smile and a nod.

“You can come in, if you want,” he offers.

Joe steps into the room. “So, you got everything you need?”

Luz shrugs. “I guess so, not knowing how long I’ll be here made it a little tricky to pack.”

Joe nods his head thoughtfully, looking around the room before his eyes land back on Luz, who is looking at him expectantly. 

“Winters wants to see you, whenever you’re not busy,” Joe finally explains.

“Oh,” he says, a little disappointed that Joe hadn’t just come to talk to him. “Well, I guess that’d be now.”

 

Walking into the kitchen, Luz sees someone else he hasn’t met yet. It’s another redhead, and he’s starting to think that half the organization is made up of redheads. _No wonder Roe sticks around._

“Luz, this is Babe,” Joe introduces him to the newest redhead.

“Babe?” Luz asks, just to make sure he didn’t hear wrong, as he shakes the guy’s hand.

Babe’s smile is friendly as he gives Luz’s hand an enthusiastic shake. “Yeah, old nickname that I never grew out of,” he explains.

He’s got a thick, Philadelphia accent and a nasally voice, but his smile is infectious. 

“This the Mimic then?” Luz hears from behind him and he freezes.

He turns to see another guy, this one brunette, and looking at Luz with suspicion. His palms start to feel sweaty and he finds himself unconsciously shifting toward Joe. Years of avoiding that label has not quite been wiped out of him overnight.

The guy steps fully into the kitchen, coming up from the basement it seems.

Luz isn’t sure what to do as the guy approaches him, eyeing him up and down with a scowl on his face. He looks to Joe, to see what his reaction to the guy is. Instead of anxious or threatening, Joe just rolls his eyes.

“Luz, this is Bill Guarnere, he thinks he’s funny. Guarnere, this is George Luz.”

Guarnere holds the glare a moment longer before a large smile spreads across his face, accompanied by a sharp laugh. Luz startles a little, but shakes the offered hand that Guarnere gives him. Somehow the handshake is even more enthusiastic than Babe’s.

“Ah, I just gotta give the new kids a hard time, ya know,” Guarnere explains, his voice just as nasally and thick on the accent as Babe’s. And Luz tries to, discreetly, let out the breath he’s been holding.

“Yeah, well, this new kid is a little different,” Joe says, his throaty voice sounding stern and serious.

Guarnere doesn’t seem too put off by the reproachful tone, but he raises his hands in surrender.

“Eh, don’t you worry about me, Toye. I can already tell that Luz and I are gonna get along real good. Right?” Guarnere looks over at Luz expectantly.

“Oh, uh, yeah?” he stutters out, but it seems to satisfy Guarnere’s needs because he just grins and nods his head.

Joe rolls his eyes again, and puts his hand on Luz’s back to continue leading him outside.

Luz sends an awkward wave to his two new acquaintances, but neither seem too fazed by Joe’s rude exit.

 

“Don’t worry about Guarnere,” Joe says while holding the backyard gate for Luz to walk through. “Half the stuff he says is meant to be funny, don’t take anything he says too personal.”

Luz nods, “so there won’t be a problem with me being a Mimic?” He kicks a rock further down the alley, trying not to show his real anxiety about this particular problem.

Joe looks over at him for a moment before shaking his head. “Nah, nobody in this group is gonna give you a hard time for having an ability. But if anyone ever does, just let me know.”

Luz grins. “So, are you like my bodyguard or something?”

Joe quirks an eyebrow up at that. “There’s four of us that’ll be watching out for you. Babe, Guarnere, McClung, and I,” he explains.

“Yeah, I sort of figured that. But are you like my _special_ body guard?”

“I’m nothing special,” Joe shrugs. “I just do what they ask me to do.”

“Oh, I don’t know. You did capture yourself a Mimic, they’re bound to give you a promotion,” he jokes.

Joe frowns. “It wasn’t capturing. We took you for your protection.” Even with the explanation Joe seems pretty uncomfortable with the whole topic.

“Fine, fine, so you’re just a regular ‘ol body guard. Oh, wait, does that make me Whitney Houston?” Luz flushes immediately at his dumb joke, realizing what he’s implied. But Joe just looks confused.

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you don’t know ‘The Bodyguard’?” 

Joe just shakes his head and unlocks the door to the office building they had been in the night before, holding the door open for Luz to walk through.

“We gotta get you out more, Joe,” Luz says.

Before either can say anything else though, Malarkey walks up.

“Oh I’ve told him that probably a thousand times,” Malarkey assures Luz with a grin. “Speaking of, we’re still on for tomorrow night, yeah?”

Luz looks to see Toye send Malarkey a soft smile and nod, and Luz’s good mood is lowered.

“Right, well, I guess now that I’m here, safe and sound, you can take a break. I’ll see you later.”

Luz leaves the two of them before either can respond, stalking over to the office he had gone into the night before.

He hears a soft “come in” when he knocks on the door, and opens it to see just Winters and Nixon there. 

Winters smiles at him as he enters, standing up from behind his desk. 

“Mr. Luz, thank for coming to talk to us,” Winters greets him, formally.

“Uh, just Luz is fine,” he says, sitting down at the chair in front of his desk when Winters motions to it.

Winters smiles again and nods, sitting back down.

“I just wanted to see how you were settling in so far.”

“Fine I guess,” Luz answers with a shrug.

“You were able to get everything you’d need from your place?”

Luz nods. “Not knowing how long I’ll be staying made packing a little hard. But one of your guys will be there, right? So if I need to get something I forgot I’ll be able to?”

“Of course. We want to make this arrangement as convenient as we can for you.”

“Right, well, about that. I was able to take some time off work, but two weeks was pretty much all I could ask my boss for without getting fired,” he tells both of them, looking over at Nixon who seems to just be taking in the conversation.

Winters nods. “We’ll figure out what we can do when the time comes.”

“You know, you could just quit. Join us for real. We even pay,” Nixon finally speaks up.

“You said yesterday that I didn’t have to join,” Luz argues, afraid that this is something they’re going to keep pushing until he eventually caves.

“You don’t have to join,” Winters placates. “But it is something to think about. You could work with us, to help others who are just like you. And, as Lew mentioned, everyone here does get paid.”

“What would I even do?” He isn’t really considering it, but it’s nice to know what his options are.

Winters shrugs. “That’d be up to you. You work with computers right? Malarkey is our only tech guy right now, so we could definitely use someone else helping him out. Or, if there is something else you may be interested in we can see what we can do.”

He knows that Winters assurance should sound alluring, giving him the option of working in an area he’s familiar with. But the problem is, that he’d be doing whatever he wants within an organization that works somewhere outside of the law. Being a bona fide member would mean he is a criminal too. And he just can’t become the person his mother always told him he would be. 

He doesn’t know how to tell them this though, so he opts to change the subject.

“Lipton mentioned yesterday about some training sessions or something?”

“That’s right, we thought it would be helpful to give you some guidance on controlling your abilities, as well as improving upon them.”

“Right, about that. Controlling my abilities sounds great, sign me up. I just don’t know why I’d want to improve my ability to mimic people. If anything I think I’d like to figure out how to make it stop all together.”

“Don’t you want to see what you’re capable of?” Nixon speaks up again. “You’ve been trying to hide something that is a part of you for so long, you should want to explore the possibilities inside of you.”

Luz gets a sour taste in his mouth, but doesn’t argue any further. They don’t understand what it’s like. Nobody knows, even the others with abilities, none of them know how it feels to have something terrible inside of them. For Luz, he knows that his Mimic abilities mean he is capable of really horrible things, and he has no desire to tempt those abilities by walking the line between legal and criminal, not knowing how to do a full Mimic of someone just feels safer. It feels like he is less likely to cause any problems the less he knows how to do.

“Well, since Lip already told you what you’ll be doing you can start right away if you’d like. Not everyone is here today,” Winters explains.  “Let’s see, I think Roe is, he’d like to work with you as much as you’ll allow, he’s very interested in learning as much as he can about Mimics.”

Luz nods, liking the idea of seeing the Doc again, but not really interested in answering a bunch of questions or learning even more head spinning information about himself.

“Malarkey is here too. I think Malarkey will be really helpful to you. He’s excited to teach you some techniques about control and-“

“Roe is fine, I’d ra- I’ll work with Roe,” Luz interrupts, shrugging at their raised eyebrows.

He’ll work with Malarkey another day, once he’s got a better handle on his jealousy.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

 

Luz falls into a routine with the group almost immediately.

He meets with Lipton basically every day. Some days they work on improving his mimicking, which Luz is still hesitant about, but Lipton assures him that the more he knows about it the more he’ll be able to control it.

Most days they just talk though. They talk about having abilities, growing up in a world where they never felt accepted, never felt like they were right. Luz listens as Lipton talks about learning to accept what he is, not just figuring out that the reason he always felt so overwhelmed in a crowded room was because he was taking on the emotions of everyone around him. He tells Luz about how scared he’d been to reveal that fact about himself to anyone, afraid that he’d be shunned, or worse.

Luckily, Lipton’s family isn’t the same as Luz’s, his mother and brother were both accepting and supportive when he finally revealed to them that he was an Empath. His father had died in a car accident before he’d come out.

It’s nice talking to someone who understands what it’s like to feel alone and ashamed of who and what they are. The only issue is that Lipton learned to accept his ability, whereas Luz has not.

 

“It’s different with you,” Luz says during one of their sessions. “Being an Empath isn’t the same as being a Mimic.”

Lipton sighs. “Plenty of people think that Empaths can control emotions, or read minds, or use our abilities to manipulate people in a number of different ways.”

“Yeah, but that’s just people being ignorant and choosing to not look into what Empaths actually do. Mimics are different, or _were_ different. They really did steal people’s identities, and used their abilities to steal and cheat and kill. Empaths never did that.”

“I’m sure there have been plenty of Empaths who have broken the law.”

“Yeah, but those are just criminals who happen to be Empaths, they’re not using their abilities to commit their crimes. Only Mimics could pull off the crimes that they did.”

Lipton sends him another one of his smiles that look like it’s meant to be a frown. “I really think you should spend some more time with Speirs, I think you need a better understanding of what Mimics really were.”

  


Speirs isn’t around often. It takes almost a week of being with the group before Luz meets with him.

The man is pretty intimidating, and Luz is sure he made a bad first impression on him when they met. Speirs, more than any of the others, seems to take what they’re doing very seriously.

Even without abilities of his own, his sense of duty toward those who do is apparent. And Luz can respect that, can understand it, in a way. Especially when it comes to wanting to protect Empaths and Healers, because there is just nothing inherently wrong with people with those abilities. It’s the fact that Speirs seems to be even more focused on the injustices done against Mimics in particular.

So, Luz sits and listens as he rambles on and on about things Luz already learned in his history classes all his life. Of course, it’s twisted with Speirs’ own opinion peppered through, making the story pretty different than the version he had been taught.

 

“You don’t care about any of this, do you?” Speirs says suddenly, in the middle of one of his rants.

Luz sighs. “It’s not that. I do care, and I get that it’s important it’s just…”

“Just what?” he asks, his eyes harsh and steady, studying him.

Luz tries to suppress a shiver.

“It’s just…you’re talking about this shit like…like it’s Rwanda or something. Or-or Nazi Germany. You can’t possibly think that what happened with Mimics can be compared to what happened with those people.”

Speirs doesn’t move or speak for almost a minute before he sits down right in front of Luz, staring him straight in the eye.

“Tragedy doesn’t have to be a competition. Killing a group of people for any reason, because of their heritage, their religion, their genes, regardless of the scale or methods, should _always_ be fought against. Otherwise, what the hell is the point to anything? The war I’m fighting may be smaller than some, but I will fight it until I die. Because you shouldn’t be the last of your kind, Luz. There shouldn’t be an extinction of an entire group of people.”

Luz doesn’t argue with him again.

  


Then there’s Malarkey.

Luz, reluctantly, really likes Don Malarkey. He is friendly and funny and nowhere near as serious as Lipton, Roe and Speirs are.

While Luz doesn’t feel quite as at ease opening up to Malarkey as he does with Lipton, they are able to share some fun stories about how their abilities have screwed them over in the past. Like Malarkey asking a guy out when he was in high school because he’d been sure the guy liked him. And he probably had, but he hadn’t exactly admitted that to himself yet.

He also likes his sessions with Malarkey because most days he just spends time relaxing, learning to become more in tune with his body, learning to have some semblance of control over the abilities that he has within him.

But even with that, most of the time it feels like he’s just hanging out with a buddy – and that’s been a bit of an adjustment for him - a buddy who he is extremely jealous of for having some kind of relationship with Joe. And whether Malarkey knows it or not, Luz doesn’t know, because Malarkey doesn’t say anything or act any certain way that would make it seem like he knows how Luz is feeling. But he must know, he must be able to feel the burning jealousy that rolls around Luz’s gut whenever he watches Malarkey and Joe interact.

  


Roe has a tendency to pull Luz into his office whenever he can catch him before he leaves for the day.

Usually, he asks how he’s feeling or he asks about his training. Every few days he checks his vitals. Some of his concerns seem to be medically related, but most of the time it seems like he is just trying to observe a Mimic, take down every piece of information he can about the lone Mimic so he can do…what, Luz isn’t sure. Whether he is just concerned about Luz’s well-being, or he’s trying to understand Mimics, in order to understand other abilities better, or maybe he’s just trying to get a book deal, Luz doesn’t know, and he doesn’t ask.

Luz probably would complain about all the poking and prodding and questioning if he didn’t feel so calm and as ease whenever he is around the Healer. As it is, he enjoys his time with Roe, if only for the peacefulness his presence provides.

The only annoyance is, Roe still believes that Luz also has Healer abilities, though, so far, he’s been unable to actually prove it. Luz’s blood samples had come back inconclusive, for all the abilities, so Roe has to try to test everything individually, based on observational methods.

When Luz assures him, for what feels like the hundredth time, that he couldn’t possibly be a Healer, Roe argues using his observations.

 

“Everyone here took to liking you quickly. You make people feel good just being around you.”

Luz shrugs. “It’s never been like that before, I mean, people like me fine at first, but they definitely don’t like to stick around. I make people uncomfortable. Isn’t that kind of the opposite of what a Healer does?”

“You only made people feel uncomfortable because you weren’t comfortable yourself. You’ve been here less than a week and you already seem like a much lighter version of who I met.”

“The person you met had just been kidnapped and was trying to decide if you were going to kill him or not,” Luz argues.

Roe just smirks, but doesn’t push it.

 

 

The truth is, Roe isn’t wrong, Luz has been getting along really well with most of the people in the group, particularly with the guys he lives with, his guards.

They’re good company when they’re all together, and Luz often finds himself feeling like he’s just hanging out with a group of his friends, the way he’s always imagined. Guarnere, Babe, McClung, and Toye are all pretty tough guys, so they spend a lot of time posturing and giving each other a hard time. Half the comments made toward each other are meant to be vaguely antagonistic, though with an undercurrent of friendliness, and Luz quickly finds that his own sense of humor fits in well with the group.

He has no problem calling any one of them an idiot, or shooting back a sarcastic remark to any of their ridiculous attempts at humor.

He’s even caught himself teasing them. Not too many days into his stay with them he does an impression of Roe in order to make fun of Babe’s obvious crush. The voice he imitates is so accurate that it makes Babe flush a bright red. Luz quickly catches himself, his gut tightening up at the realization of what he’s done. But instead of anyone looking at him in fear or anger or disgust, at hearing his Mimic abilities, they all laugh loudly at Babe’s expense. As though it’s just another normal form of teasing a friend.   


 

Despite what he says, Luz knows Joe is his ‘special’ body guard. He is almost always the one who walks Luz to and from headquarters, and when he’s not there, whoever is tends to say they’re ‘taking over for Toye for now.’ He’s almost always around.

Not that Luz is complaining, having Joe around most of the time is nice. It doesn’t help with getting rid of his crush at all, but he’s not sure he wants to stop crushing on Joe.

Joe doesn’t talk as much as Guarnere or Babe do, but he has a pretty biting wit that Luz enjoys. His throaty voice lends itself well to his deadpan, snarky responses that he tends to throw out almost as much as Luz.

He also has a tendency to stand close to Luz. He seems to hover just behind Luz’s shoulder, always close enough, but never quite touching. Luz has found indents from his fingernails in his palms after holding himself back from just touching Joe himself.

 

Despite all of that, when the two weeks are up Luz is almost relieved. Not that he hasn’t been enjoying all of his lessons, and possibly making some real friends. But after two weeks, he’s ready for some sense of normalcy in his life again, maybe just to remind himself that this isn’t all just a dream.

Except that when the two-week mark comes around they’re not all convinced that Luz should be going back to work.

 

“Look, having a lot of vacation time is one thing, but this is my job, I can’t just leave it and pick it back up whenever I feel like it. I have a good boss, but no boss is that nice,” Luz argues.

Winters sighs, “Liebgott says it’s still not safe.”

“What’s not safe? I stay here, go into work during the day, come back here at night. I won’t be wandering around on my own. I’ll still do my sessions with the guys at night and on weekends if that’s what you’re worried about.”

They still seem apprehensive.

“You know, it actually looks more suspicious if I just completely stop coming to work. What if someone tries to find me?” He’s pretty sure nobody would actually think enough about him being gone to actually look for him, but it makes Winters look a little more receptive to the idea, so it has served its intended purpose.

“What are you going to tell your boss about the bodyguard you’ll be bringing with you every day?” Nixon speaks up from his desk.

Luz groans, “come on, Joe does not need to come to work with me. Nobody is going to just grab me up from my desk in front of my coworkers.”

Winters and Nixon share a long look before Winters nods and says, “we’ll talk to the boys, see what they want to do.”

Luz agrees, sure that Babe, Guarnere and Joe are not going to want to sit in his office all day.

 

In the end, they agree to drive Luz to and from work. When Winters suggests someone walking him to the building Luz protests, not wanting to explain his escort to his co-workers, and Babe seconds his argument.

 

On Monday, Joe and he make their way into the city, Joe complaining about his new, early wake up time. Luz reminds him that he was nice enough to make Joe coffee to get him through it. And though he is grumpy, Luz can’t help but be enamored by a sleepier version of Joe. Though Luz can admit to himself that pretty much every version of Joe, so far, he has been fairly enamored with.

On their way, Luz tries to turn the radio on.

“No music before eight am,” Joe says, grabbing Luz’s arm quickly to stop him from turning the knob.

“That’s crazy,” Luz argues, but moves his hand back.

“You’re the one that begged to go back to work, making me get up two hours earlier than normal. So you’re just going to have to deal with my rules, and my rules say I can’t deal with music this early,” Joe tells him, taking another large drink of coffee.

Luz is pretty sure that Joe just means he can’t handle _Luz’s_ music before eight, but he appreciates the blanket statement to spare his feelings.

The silence isn’t exactly uncomfortable. The problem is actually coming from the fact that Luz isn’t uncomfortable at all sitting in silence with Joe as he drives him to work. It feels almost domestic, and that is a thought that Luz knows he needs to shut down fast.

Once they’ve parked in front of his office building he unbuckles and turns to look at Joe.

“Thanks for the ride, and only complaining about how early it is half a dozen times instead of a full dozen,” Luz jokes and Joe sends him a mock glare. “I’ll see you at five.”

He’s barely out of the car when he realizes that Joe is following him out. He waits on the curb for Joe to sidle up beside him.

“We agreed you’d just be driving me, not walking me up,” he says quietly, so as not to attract anyone walking past.

“I’m in the habit of walking you places, and this is your first day back, indulge me,” Joe says, putting his hand on Luz’s lower back and leading him toward his office. Luz is thankful for the weather, if Joe notices that his face has gotten pinker from the innocent contact, Luz can just lie and say he’s cold.

“Remember to text me when you’re at your desk. And no going to lunch with anyone or going outside for any reason without letting me know first so I can be here,” Joe reminds him again as they walk.

“I know, I _know_ , I’ll just go in, do my work, and leave. I won’t follow any strange men out of the building…again.” Luz grins a little, hoping Joe takes it as a joke.

Joe grimaces instead. “Have a good day,” is all he says, and leaves Luz at the front doors.

Luz sighs, and walks inside.

As soon as he gets to his desk he pulls out his phone, texting Joe their ‘special code’. Joe sends his response back quickly, and Luz smiles. He looks up to see Christenson grinning at him.

“What?”

“Oh nothing, you just go away for two weeks out of nowhere and then come back to work with some guy not just dropping you off but walking you all the way to the front of the building. You were so focused on him you didn’t even see me walk right past you. And _now_ , barely ten seconds at your desk, and I bet you anything you’re texting him,” he finishes, looking smug.

And Jesus, Christenson is definitely reading the feelings correctly, but the situation so, _so_ wrong. But now he’s gotten the attention of Wynn and Ramirez who seem just as thrilled as Christenson at the idea that Luz may actually _finally_ have a love life for them to talk about. For some reason, they all seem far more interested in him than he ever remembers them being.

“It’s really not what you think, guys,” Luz mumbles and sets up to getting himself back into remembering how to work after two weeks away.

“So, then what does a guy walking you to the door of your office mean?” Ramirez asks, a smirk on his face.

And Luz is stumped, this is why he didn’t want any of them to walk to the door with him, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to come up with a good answer for it. So instead, he just scowls and gets back to work.

The guys all laugh, but go back to their own work, and once he’s sure they’ve stopped paying attention to him, he texts Joe.

 

_Dammit Joe! Thanks to your "habit" everyone here thinks youre my new bf who I ran off and had a 2 week sex vacation with!_

He hits send before he has thought too hard about his message, but once it’s sent he holds his breath, worried Joe will be uncomfortable with that thought. He doesn’t have to hold his breath long though. 

 _So_? Is the only response Luz receives, and he’s annoyed again.

  
_So??? They're gonna keep asking me about you until i tell them something~_

He keeps going.

_What about the days when one of the other guys drop me off? What if they see them and think I have some kind of rotating band of boyfriends who all can't get enough of chauffeuring me around all day?_

Thinking of other possibilities, he texts Joe again.

_OR what if thwy think i went on a 2 week sex vacation with all of you?! Theyre not just gonna let me say that it's nothing for too long_

Joe’s response comes pretty quickly after Luz’s second text.

_Definitely go with the polygamous option_

Even though he’s slightly annoyed, he can’t help but snort out a laugh at that, which makes Wynn look up at him. He waggles his eyebrows at Luz, but Luz just rolls his eyes and looks back down at his phone.

 _You are absolutely no help_ , he texts Joe.

 _Ok_ , is the only reply he gets.

Sometimes Luz doesn’t like Joe Toye at all.

-  


Luz spends most of his day getting himself caught back up on the work he’s missed, choosing to eat his lunch at his desk.

Nobody bugs him about Joe again until five o’clock rolls around and Luz texts him that he’s coming out.

“Is your boyfriend picking you up? Will we get to meet him?” Christenson asks as they all ride the elevator down together.

Luz doesn’t answer, but he really hopes not.

Luck isn’t with him, because Joe is waiting by the door when they walk through it. He is wrapped up in a coat and scarf against the autumn weather and Luz really wishes it is what they think, because Joe looks so good.

Instead of reacting in any of the embarrassing ways that he wants to, he avoids making eye contact with Joe and attempts to make his way toward the car. But then he hears the very deliberate sounds of his three coworkers clearing their throats.

He sighs and turns back around. “Uh, guys, this is Joe. Joe, this is Wynn, Christenson and Ramirez,” he says, motioning to each man as he names them.

Joe reaches out his hand and shakes each of theirs, a charming smile on his face, saying “nice to meet you.”

It’s a real shame that only Christenson can appreciate Joe’s voice the way it ought to be, and Luz can see the way his eyes widen for just a moment at the sound. Luz can relate.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Luz says, trying to get away without much else happening, but then he feels Joe throw his arm around him and they head over to the car. Luz has to close his eyes so they don’t roll right out of his head, or so he doesn’t melt into a puddle, at the feeling of Joe pressed completely up against his side.

“You’re an asshole,” he tells Joe once they’re both inside the car.

Joe just laughs and drives off.


	5. Chapter 5

 

Roe is taking notes. Roe is always taking notes. Luz is standing at the mirror, practicing his full body mimic, while Roe writes down notes of whatever the hell he’s always making notes about.

Luz sighs in annoyance when he tries to change his height and his hair changes back to normal.

Roe looks up from his writing to send him a small grin.

“You’re thinking too hard. You don’t need to focus on each individual part. It’s about knowing what you want to present out to others. You don’t consciously think about every body part when you’re moving, you just move.” 

Luz looks back to the mirror, watching as he shifts to Speirs, his hair curling and darkening, his features sharpening. He tries to speak in Speirs’ voice, but he is only able to get out a few words before he starts shrinking back to his own height, and his hair begins to straighten again.

Roe reaches over and pats him on the shoulder, and Luz feels a little less frustrated, and would probably feel annoyed by that, if he could.

“It’s just going to take some time. You weren’t born already walking and talking, you just have to keep practicing. You’re coming along really well for how short a time you’ve been at this,” Roe assures him.

Luz huffs, “how could you even know that? What if it was completely normal for Mimics to perfectly imitate people right away? Without any sort of practice?”

“Well…I don’t know for sure, but I do know, that they – at least the ones from before the genocide – didn’t spend their entire life pushing that instinct down the way you have. Speaking of-“ 

Luz already knows where he’s going to go with this. “I don’t know how many more time I’ve gotta tell you this, Doc, I’m not a Healer. I think two different abilities is more than enough, and pretty amazing if you ask me. What, not impressed by me anymore?” he teases.

Roe looks unamused. “Oh, I’m plenty amazed, Luz, but can you imagine if there’s a mutant gene out there that’s combining these three abilities together?”

“It sounds like a dangerous person to me,” Luz says, darkly. “Someone who can know everything about other people, and use that knowledge and other abilities to manipulate their emotions and senses the way they want. It’s ridiculous that some of us have the power to do that.”

Roe sends him a sad sort of smile. “Plenty of people do that without any kind of special mutations.”

“Yeah, but we have an unfair advantage.”

“That’s evolution.”

“It’s shitty.”

Roe sighs and sits down. “These abilities can help a person do really awful things, and in the genes of the wrong people, those awful things have happened. But you’re so focused on the bad things that can be done with them that you’re not realizing that these abilities are inherently good.”

Luz gives him a disbelieving look, but doesn’t respond.

“I believe it,” Roe continues. “It is part of our evolution that some people can now understand others better, or make them feel better. That can’t just be an accident.”

Luz lets out a laugh, one devoid of any actual humor. “Yeah, and what about Mimics? What could possibly be so good about changing your appearance or voice to trick other people?”

Roe frowns. “Well,” he starts slowly. “Mimicry in nature is often found as a defense mechanism. A way of hiding from predators.”

He snorts. “Yeah, I think we’ve already seen how I react in dangerous situations, and it definitely isn’t to change my appearance.”

Roe scowls. “It’s not just fight or flight, there are all sorts of ways creatures use mimicry. Some birds will lay their eggs in other’s nests, tricking the other bird into thinking they’re their own.”

“So I’m a parasite?” Luz jokes, but Roe just shushes him.

“There are weeds that take on the quality of crops they are around, which can protect them.”

Luz opens his mouth to make another sarcastic comment, but Roe cuts him off. “I’m just illustrating that there are different reasons for mimicry in nature. There are different kinds of defense mechanisms. Regardless of all of that, I believe that for whatever reason you have this mutation, it’s for a good purpose. And you’re a good person, so I am not afraid for a moment that you would use any of your gifts to hurt anyone.”

Luz doesn’t respond, and Roe ends their session soon after. 

 

He doesn’t agree with Roe’s assessment. Though Roe’s belief that Luz is a good person, and won’t use his abilities for his own gain, is a nice sentiment, he wishes he had that much faith in himself.

He’s distracted when he gets to Malarkey’s office and Malarkey seems to understand that - Luz supplies a  _ duh _ to his thoughts - so he decides to lead Luz in a short, guided meditation session. It’s a nice way to get himself out of his own head, and just focus all of his energy on his body and on Malarkey’s words.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Malarkey offers after the meditation exercise ends. It’s rare for him to even acknowledge that he knows what Luz is feeling, so it must be fairly strong.

“Honestly? I don’t even really know what it is. Can you name it?” he asks, kind of hoping Malarkey will have a little more insight into the way he’s feeling.

Instead he just shrugs. “Not without the accompanying thoughts I can’t. Plus, feelings are personal, and can be shaped by individual experiences. No two people’s emotions feel the exact same. One person’s sadness can feel more like anger to me, it’s all relative.”

“You shoulda been a therapist, Malark,” Luz tells him with a grin.

Malarkey laughs, “Buck is always telling me that.”

“Who’s Buck?” 

Malarkey squints. “Buck, my boyfriend?”

“You have a boyfriend?” Luz is shocked, and hoping the feeling of excitement that is rushing through him feels like something different to Malarkey.

“I can’t believe I’ve never mentioned him before,” Malarkey says, pulling out his phone to show Luz his lock screen. 

The picture is of Malarkey and an older guy with blonde hair and blue eyes. Luz never would have guessed that the all American look would be what Malarkey would go for. He has known that Joe and Malarkey aren’t together, but that doesn’t mean feelings aren’t there. He’s always felt like he got a read off of them that there is more than just friendship between them. Maybe it’s Joe that is harboring an unrequited crush on his old friend, though Malarkey would know about it. Maybe he chooses not to say anything, the same way he chooses to ignore Luz’s jealousy.

“How long have you been together?” Luz asks, handing the phone back.

“Three years this February,” he answers fondly, looking at the photo himself.

“Does he know about all of this?” 

Malarkey shrugs. “A little. He knows I’m an Empath, and that I work with a group that’s trying to bring rights to people with abilities. He kind of thinks it’s like a non-profit. He’s offered his legal services if we ever need it.”

“Does he…does he know about me?”

“No. I mean, I trust him completely, but no, that’s your secret to tell, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Luz smiles and thanks him.  
-

 

“I think it’s just us tonight,” Joe tells him as he walks Luz back to the house.

That makes Luz’s stomach swoop a little. “Where is everyone?”

“McClung is off with Web, and Guarnere is helping out. And its Babe’s night off,” Joe explains, holding the back door open for him.

They end up getting pizza and sitting on the couch, half watching TV and half keeping up some light conversation. Luz couldn’t have wished for a better night.

“High school on TV is such bullshit,” Joe says at one point, motioning to the television with a wave of his hand.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not nearly as exciting or traumatizing as it always looks in shows. No party was as good as they look like on TV and nobody gives enough of a shit about anyone else to care about the embarrassing shit you might be doing because everyone else is too worried about the embarrassing shit they’re doing.”

Luz just hums in acknowledgment, not really sure what to say, as he doesn’t have any kind of experience to draw from.

“But, you know what high school is like,” Joe ends his small rant with another wave of his hand.

Luz shrugs.

“What? You actually have exciting high school party stories?” Joe smirks.

“Not really,” Luz admits. “I didn’t really go to high school.”

“How did you not go to high school?”

“I was home-schooled,” he explains, bringing both of his legs up on the couch and wraps his arms around them.

“Oh, well…they do say homeschooled kids are usually smarter,” Joe offers awkwardly.

Luz laughs. “Yeah, I’m not sure that really applies in my case.”

“Did your parents just not like the schools in your area?”

Luz shrugs. “No, all my brothers and sisters went to the public school in town.”

Joe blinks a few times. “You were the only one they homeschooled?”

“Yeah, my mom didn’t like me leaving the house.”

Joe seems to think about that for a moment, he opens his mouth to speak, looking like he’s about to ask why, when suddenly realization appears across his features.

“Oh,” he finally says, lamely.

Luz nods.

“Is she…is she better about it now?” Joe asks, after they’ve sat in silence for a minute.

“I couldn’t really say, but probably not. I haven’t seen her since the day I left for college.”

“What?”

“My parents gave me a deal, I either stay with them and stay a part of the family, or leave and get disowned.”

“What the fuck kind of parents…” Joe trails off, looking furious which startles Luz a little. It’s been so long since his family has been more than a passing thought to him. The truth is, they’d given up on each other long before Luz had chosen to leave.

“Hey, it was better for me in the long run. I got to go to college, and move here. I probably wouldn’t have met any of you guys. I’d probably live in my parent’s basement my whole life or something.” He doesn’t mention that his mother probably would have kicked him out once he became an adult, regardless.

“So your parents knew and they just…what? Thought they could hide you from the world so that nobody would find out?” Joe asks, turning more toward Luz and leaning his arm along the back of the couch.

Luz shakes his head. “No, it wasn’t just about protecting me, it was also about keeping me from hurting other people.”

Joe furrows his eyebrows.

“I think…I think they just didn’t get it. My mom, it just scared her, ya know? She didn’t know how to deal with what I am, and she thought I was dangerous. I think she thought she could just get me to stop. Like I could just one day wake up and no longer be a Mimic,” Luz explains.

“So she abandoned you because of something you have no control over.” 

Luz isn’t sure what he can say to make Joe less angry.

“Look, you don’t know what it was like. My eyes and hair would change all the time. I could sound like anyone I wanted to. If all you know about Mimics is that they’re bad, then having one around the house all the time has to be pretty terrifying,” Luz tries to reason his way through, trying, for some reason, to make Joe to not be so mad at his mother. 

Joe’s forehead is still furrowed with his deep frown, and his dark eyes have taken on a sharp look, so Luz keeps going.

“She wasn’t heartless, she just…she had a lot of kids and couldn’t throw everything away for just one of them. If I wasn’t a Mimic she probably would have been able to love me.”

He stops at the stricken look on Joe’s face and realizes what he’s said. And it’s not like Luz didn’t already know that she didn’t love him; it’s been almost ten years since she disowned him but it’s been longer since he stopped being her son. Saying it out loud though, causes something in his chest to burn, like an old scab being scratched at until it bleeds again. He blinks back the moisture in his eyes and hugs his legs tighter to himself.

“I-“ Joe starts, but Luz interrupts.

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Okay.”

But they sit in silence for a while, watching whatever is playing on the TV, though Luz isn’t really processing it. He tries to figure out where his emotions on this matter are coming from. It’s been over a decade since he last felt anything close to affection from his mother, or even wanted it. But sharing that truth with someone, sharing it with  _ Joe _ has made him realize just how fucked up his family situation really has been. Or maybe it’s that, for the first time in his life, he feels like maybe he actually deserves to belong somewhere, and the fact that it’s the first time in his life that he’s felt this way is at least a little bit sad.

“So you became friends with Web in college?” Joe suddenly says after a good ten minutes of silence between them.

It’s awkward and Joe is clearly grasping at straws with it, but Luz could kiss him for attempting to navigate them out of the uncomfortable silence. He could kiss him for a lot of reasons.

Instead of kissing him, Luz just nods. “We were roommates.”

“That makes a little more sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been having a hard time figuring out how the two of you could have gotten together and become friends, unless at least one of you was really different from how you are now,” Joe explains.

Luz can’t help but laugh at that. “Oh no, yeah our friendship was basically built on convenience and necessity.”

“Necessity?”

Luz shrugs. “Nobody else would be our friends, so we were just stuck with each other.”

Joe frowns. “I guess it must have been a hard transition at first. But after the first year you must have made some friends.”

Luz wants to laugh at Joe’s genuine confusion over Luz’s lack of friends.

“Nope, I went to college with zero friends, I left with one. And I didn’t see that friend again until just a few weeks ago.”

“Ok, so then what about your work friends?”

“Those guys aren’t really my friends.”

“You went out to the bar with them that one night,” Joe reminds him.

Luz remembers. Luz remembers wishing he could leave his awkward get together with his coworkers and go talk to the attractive guy that had been sitting in the corner. If only he had known he had been there to watch him, he’s not sure what he would have done.

“That was a pity invite, because they’re all friends and they occasionally feel bad that they leave me out of things,” he explains. 

“Maybe you don’t give other people enough credit? Maybe there are people who have wanted to be your friend and you’ve blown them off because you assumed they didn’t?” 

Luz nods thoughtfully. “That’s possible.” He reminds himself that, lately, his coworkers have seemed far more interested and open to him than they have been in the past. He wonders if his change in lifestyle has somehow attributed to the change in their view of him.

“But, it’s not like I’ve blown off anyone who has ever approached me. Honestly, the only type of people who approach me aren’t looking for friendship anyway.”

Joe looks confused for just a moment before nodding his head in understanding, he turns so he is no longer facing Luz quite as much.

Luz knows he should probably stop with that, he knows Joe doesn’t want to hear too much about his sex life. But he also wants him to know that he has had some good reasons to shy away from getting himself too attached to people.

“People don’t really stick around with me. Once they’ve realized that I’m not who they wanted me to be,” he tries to explain, in as little detail as possible.

“What does that mean?”

Luz sighs, he’s already shared this with Lipton, he may as well share it with Joe.

“I guess…I have a tendency to unconsciously make myself look a little more like what people want me to look like. Usually it’s just my eyes or my hair.”

“You’ve mimicked in front of these people?” Joe asks, looking surprised.

Luz shrugs. “It’s never been anything big or really that obvious. People notice what they want, ya know? Nobody has ever said anything about seeing anything changing. If they get what they want with who they want, it doesn’t really matter to them. Once they realize I’m not actually who they want, they don’t stick around.”

“That seems a little messed up,” Joe says, though he’s not looking at Luz with any kind of pity or disgust so Luz just shrugs again.

“Well, we can’t all have what Winters and Nixon have,” Luz points out, and Joe chuckles. “Or…or Malarkey and his boyfriend.” 

Luz isn’t sure why he’s bringing it up; maybe to take some of the focus off himself finally, maybe to gauge Joe’s feelings about Malarkey and his relationship. But Joe just nods thoughtfully.

“They have been together for a while,” Joe says after a minute.

“Malarkey said it’s been about three years.”

Joe nods, scratching his cheek. “I guess it has been that long, Jesus.”

“So, what do you think of him?” Luz pushes.

“Buck? He’s a good guy. He’s good for Malarkey.” His words seem sincere, but Luz can’t help but notice how his eyes look a little distant, lost in his thoughts about something.

And Luz thinks he knows what it is. The idea that has been plaguing him for the last few weeks takes over, and he realizes that now is as good a time as any. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what he’s about to do.

Sitting up a little more, he reaches for Joe’s face, tilting it toward his own. He notes the look of confusion in Joe’s eyes, before pressing his lips lightly to Joe’s. He’d like to press harder, to go further, but instead he pulls away slightly, to gauge Joe’s reaction.

Joe looks a little stunned. “What…” he starts, seeming to be frozen in place, the only real movement coming from his blinking eyes.

And that’s not the ideal response, so instead of confessing that he has wanted to do that for weeks, Luz shrugs and says, “you seemed bummed, just thought I’d help you out.”

Joe doesn’t seem any less confused by the situation though so Luz makes a decision about what Joe may need to get this going. He takes another breath, acknowledging the pride that he’s about to injure, but he’s never been particularly proud.

Before Joe can form any more words to ask him what he’s doing, Luz grabs him and kisses him again. He concentrates on Malarkey, not just his hair, the eyes, the mouth, he thinks about the way Malarkey might look to Joe. He lets the image fill his head and pushes closer into Joe.

But Joe pulls away again, “wait, just…Luz, wait I-what the fuck?!” Joe pushes Luz back and falls from the couch, and Luz hits the back of the couch with an “oof.”

Joe scrambles to stand himself up, his eyes wide and never leaving Luz.

Luz jumps up, reaching to help Joe, “I’m sorry,” he tries to say, his voice no longer his own, but Joe has gotten up by himself and pushes a little at Luz’s outstretched hand.

“What the  _ fuck? _ ” Joe asks again, backing away from Luz.

Luz steps forward again, grabbing onto Joe’s arm. “It’s okay, it’s  _ okay _ , I…I can be him for you. I-I don’t mind.” His voice, though still coming out as Malarkey’s, is shaking and he definitely doesn’t sound as sure as he should for this to work. He’s also beginning to understand that Joe, regardless of his feelings, would never go for this.

Joe’s eyes are still wide and scanning as he slowly removes Luz’s hands, _Malarkey’s_ _hands,_ from his arm and he backs away down the hall.

“I-Jesus Christ, I need a minute, okay?” Joe says, holding up his hands again when Luz moves to follow. “Don’t leave, or anything. Just…go-go back to Luz,  _ please _ .”

Before Luz can respond, Joe walks down to his room and slams the door shut behind him.

Luz knows he’s fucked it all up, he definitely came on way too strong.

He sighs and walks into the bathroom to see his reflection in the mirror, it’s definitely Malarkey. He thinks that maybe the ears could use some work, but other than that he did a pretty good mimic. If he was less disappointed in himself as a person, he might actually be proud that he successfully mimicked someone. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting Malarkey go and turning back to Luz. Opening his eyes, he sees that he’s almost himself again, his hair is still darkening, and even though his eyes are brown, he can tell the difference between his brown eyes and Malarkey’s. His eyes are always the last to change. 

Once he’s sure he looks like himself again he walks into the kitchen, grabbing a drink and then sitting back on the couch. He curses himself for just throwing himself at Joe like that. Now he just looks sad and desperate. He had just thought that Joe would be too embarrassed to verbally agree to it, but when faced with the opportunity he might just go with it. Sure, it’s not an ideal way for him to get with the guy he likes, but George learned a long time ago that he is never really the one guys want to be with. 

But now he’s freaked Joe out. Realizing that was the first time he’s fully transformed in front of him before, and doing it like that was definitely not okay. He decides to give Joe an hour to cool off, then he’ll apologize.

 

About twenty minutes later though, Babe walks in through the front door, eyeing Luz’s crumpled up form on the couch.

“Everything okay?” he asks, sitting down at the armchair.

“What are you doing here? I thought it was your night off,” Luz accuses, unfolding himself a little from where he has tucked himself into the corner.

“Toye texted me, asked me to come watch you.”

Luz rolls his eyes. “That really wasn’t necessary, it’s not like I’m gonna run off.”

“So, where is he?” Babe asks, looking around.

“In his room, hiding from me. He’s…he’s kind of upset with me.”

Babe raises his eyebrows. “That’s unlikely.”

“Oh no, he is, and he has every right to be. I-I did something really stupid,” Luz stops to sigh, he notices Babe’s questioning gaze and tries to explain. “I’ve only been with you guys for a few weeks, and it’s already like I’ve forgotten everything I ever taught myself about keeping my guard up about mimicking. It’s one thing for the people who work with me on it every day, they’re used to it now. But even though you guys are on my side, you’ve never  _ actually _ seen a Mimic before.” 

Babe shakes his head, “nah, just in movies and stuff, though obviously those weren’t real. So, what, you transformed or something?”

Luz nods.

“To who?”

Luz shakes his head.

“Hm, doesn’t seem like the type of thing to get upset over, it’s not like he doesn’t know you’re a Mimic.”

Luz closes his eyes, thinking about who Babe had probably been out with on his night off. He knows the mimic has worked when he hears a sharp gasp. He opens his eyes to find Babe staring wide-eyed and slack jawed at him.

“Betta close that mouth, Heffron,” he says in a slow, Cajun accent.

Babe swallows and blinks a few times before saying, “okay, change back…please.”

He apologizes quickly, letting go of Roe in his mind, not having a mirror to look at to make sure everything has changed correctly is a little difficult, but Babe seems to relax so he figures he must look like himself again.

“It’s okay,” Babe says after he’s Luz again. “It’s just…Jesus…you’re right, knowing you can do it is one thing, seeing it is…” Babe trails off, eyeing him a little warily. Luz shifts in his seat.

He needs to get his head back on straight and remember that most of these people are operating under the desire to help Empaths, not Mimics. And though they may support Mimics in theory, having to see it in action may be just a little too much. Luz reminds himself that he’s been letting himself get too close too fast. It isn’t safe. He cut himself off from friendships and relationships like this for a reason, and he can’t start getting so complacent now, just because he has people who get him a little better than the general public. Luz promises himself that he isn’t going to transform again for any other reason than practice and his sessions, he wonders if he should even share the news that he was able to do two full mimics. 

The recurring question of why he’s even bothering to get  _ better _ at mimicking runs through his head again.    
  


An hour and a half later, Joe still hasn’t emerged from hiding in his room, and Luz is getting tired, but he knows that if he puts off apologizing tonight he’ll just keep putting off confronting him at all, and he can’t just stop interacting with Joe.

So around midnight he knocks on Joe’s door, hoping he hasn’t already fallen asleep. But Joe answers fairly quickly, despite the anxious look on his face.

“Hey, I…I’m sorry about all that,” Luz starts, motioning vaguely toward the living room. “I didn’t mean to freak you out, and I know I shouldn’t have done it.”

Joe looks at him for a moment before stepping back into his room. Before Luz can do more than worry that he’s just going to close the door in his face, Joe walks out holding a pack of cigarettes.

“C’mon, I could use a smoke.”

Luz follows close behind, agreeing.

Sitting on the front porch steps, Joe lights Luz’s cigarette and then his own. Luz takes a long drag, waiting for Joe to speak, wondering if he’ll talk about the mimicking first, or his embarrassingly desperate display.

Joe breathes out a line of smoke and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. 

“I met Malarkey when I was fourteen. I was the new kid in school, had just moved in with my aunt, and starting my freshman year of high school almost halfway through the semester. I was just walking down the hallway, trying to avoid everyone, when I see these two guys grab a kid and start dumping out his bag, pushing him around, you know, just being teenage dickheads. Where I came from, unless they’re fucking with one of your own, you keep your head down and mind yours, you don’t want to get caught in the middle of someone else’s shit. I hated it, but that’s what you do. So, that’s what I was about to do, just put my head down, walk away, get on with my life, when I see this scrawny little red head, no bigger than the kid that’s being messed with, get right up in these guy’s faces.” Joe pauses when he sees the grin on Luz’s face, thinking about little Don Malarkey, completely unwilling to just sit back and watch someone get bullied.

“What happened?” he asks when Joe doesn’t immediately start talking again.

Joe grins. “They started kicking his ass, of course. And…and I didn’t really know why, but I just couldn’t stand that, so I stepped in and took care of them. Got myself detention and a black eye on my first day of school.” He smiles at the memory, taking another drag.

Luz doesn’t speak again, waiting for Joe to wrap his head around the words. 

“That’s been my whole life since I met Malark; he can’t stand watching someone else get hurt, so he involves himself in shit that he can’t handle, so I step in and handle it. It wasn’t until we were in college when we realized he was an Empath. He threw himself into learning everything he could about them, and Healers, and Mimics. Made me read books and articles and theories on why Mimics had been mistreated, and how Empaths were next. I-I never really cared too much about it, I guess. I didn’t disagree with the arguments, just…I guess I just figured there wasn’t much I could do, so why bother stressing myself out about it?” He stops again, rubbing at the back of his head a little, seeming regretful of his past disinterest. Luz wants to tell him that he’s been just as uninterested and to not feel so bad, but he doesn’t want to interrupt. 

“Of course, that’s all Malarkey did,” Joe continues, “stressed himself out about injustice and the fair treatment of all human beings regardless of their genetic makeup and all that shit.”

Luz grins, thinking about his own time in college with his own best friend, Joe had probably heard the same kinds of lectures from Malarkey that he had heard from Web.

“That is, until he found these guys and joined up immediately. And, as always, I just followed along. Because that’s what I do. Or…that’s what I had been doing. Not so much these past few years,” Joe explains, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. “It used to feel like we were almost tied together, you know? Someone would hurt him and I would react as though they’d just hit me…” 

Joe stops to take another drag, and Luz flicks his own ash out over the concrete step.

“That feelings been fading though,” Joe finally admits.

“Because of Buck?” Luz finally speaks up.

Joe nods his head a little, distractedly. “I think so, I think he feels that pull now. I feel like I handed over a leash I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.”

“I’m sorry.”

Joe looks over at him and smiles. “Nah, it’s a good thing. It just has me feeling a little lost sometimes. Who am I now that I’m no longer Malark’s keeper?”

Luz bites his lip and stubs his cigarette out, not knowing the answer to that question.

“But…despite all that, I love the guy. He’s my best friend, and one of the best people I know.”

Luz nods, unable to argue with Joe’s assessment.

“But, being kissed by him, even if it wasn’t actually him, may be one of the most scarring moments of my life.”

That startles a laugh out of Luz, he hadn’t expected the conversation to turn here.

“Jesus, I’m sorry, Joe. I, uh, I really misread that whole situation,” he admits.

Joe stubs his own cigarette out, letting it drop into the rocks in front of the house.

“I’ve only ever seen it when your eyes change colors. I knew you were making progress, but I guess it never really clicked. Mimics were always just some story you heard, never really a concrete thing. And now you’re here, and sometimes I forget. You’re…well you’re not what I expected.”

Luz wants to ask if that is a good or a bad thing. Is he less or more than Joe had expected? Instead he just scuffs his heel along the bottom step.

“Don’t do that anymore, okay?”

Luz looks up. “I’m not going to do any more transformations for anything other than training, I promise. I…I know it’s creepy.” Luz tries to assure him, but Joe shakes his head.

“Nah, I just mean don’t change yourself because you think that’s what someone wants. If they don’t like you for you then fuck ‘em.”

Luz scoffs. It’s easy enough for Joe to say, he’s sure plenty of people like Joe just how they see him, but Luz has a lifetime of experience of people not wanting him for him.

Before he can argue though, Joe puts his hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get inside, it’s fucking freezing out here.”

He lets Joe pull him up to stand, and lead him back into the house.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

 

“Can I ask you something?” 

Luz is sitting in Lipton’s office. They’re not in one of their sessions, Luz has just taken to hanging out there when he’s bored.

“Of course,” Lipton offers, not looking up from the forms he’s reading.

“Does being an Empath make things easier or harder for…relationships?”

Lipton looks up at Luz, studying his face for a moment.

“Well, I don’t really have anything to compare it to, I don’t know what it’s like to not be an Empath.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“But - and you’re not going to like this answer – I guess I’d say it’s both.”

Luz laughs. “You’re right, that’s a pretty shitty answer.”

Lipton grins, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his face. “Understanding someone, and knowing what they’re really feeling can be pretty powerful. The problem is that when I’m feeling the emotions of strangers around me, it doesn’t mean anything, not really. Even if I get a sensation of attraction from a person, directed toward me, that can mean a whole bunch of things. Attraction doesn’t always lead to relationships. And then once you’re in a relationship, you have to deal with feeling all the emotions, good or bad, and then your own personal feelings can get in the way of how you filter those emotions. So, it has some good qualities but I guess…it’s bad, it makes being close to someone extremely difficult.”

Luz frowns, noticing the tired look on his friend’s face.

“So, does that mean you haven’t really had much success in the love department either?”

Lipton laughs. “No, no, I’m a lot like you actually. Haven’t been able to sustain any kind of relationship. I haven’t been able to find someone who I’m willing to deal with emotionally, who is also willing to put up with the ability.”

Luz gives him a hard look. “Really?”

“Really.”

“ _ Really? _ ”

Lipton furrows his brow. “What?”

Luz scoffs and stands up, pacing back and forth in the small office. 

“Lip, you can’t be serious.”

“Why is it so hard to believe I haven’t done well romantically?”

“It’s not  _ that _ , its…its that I have eyes, Lip, and a whole mess of other abilities that help me just  _ know _ things sometimes. You can’t possibly believe there is no one who would be willing to deal with you, ability and all.”

Lipton narrows his eyes, looking genuinely confused.

“ _ Ron _ , Lip! You  _ clearly _ have feelings for the guy, and there’s no question that he’s interested in you,” Luz says, sounding angrier than he is. But his friend’s seeming cluelessness frustrates him.

Lipton ducks his head, clearly embarrassed, and Luz grins as he sits back down across from him.

“He…it’s not that…” Lipton fumbles with his words and Luz laughs, delighted by the ever calm Carwood Lipton being shaken.

“Look, Lip, do you like Ron?”

“It’s-“

“No,” Luz interrupts him. “Simple yes or no, do you like him in a romantic kind of way?”

Lipton blows out a breath and taps his finger against his desk for a moment.

“Yes, I am interested in Ron in a…non-platonic way,” he admits.

Luz grins. He already knew, but hearing it confirmed is nice.

“So, as an Empath, how can you say you don’t realize that Speirs has feelings for you too?”

Lipton ducks his head again but doesn’t argue.

“It’s different, like I said, my own emotions are too wrapped up in it, I can’t…I can’t trust any read I get off of Ron. I can’t properly filter out my own bias. I mean, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Well, you and Toye…”

Luz sputters, nearly choking on air. “What? That’s not…It’s not the same…What?”

It’s Lipton’s turn to grin now. “Why not?”

“I don’t… _ he _ isn’t…” Luz struggles to get words out, whether to lie or not he can’t decide. “I’m not really an Empath, not like you anyway,” is what he settles on.

Lipton shrugs. “You have intuition about other people’s desires, that’s pretty much exactly what you’d need to know how Toye feels about you.”

“Yeah, but it’s all up in here or something,” Luz points at his head. “ _ I _ don’t know anything.”

“I think you can read people better than you give yourself credit for. Either way, you’ve successfully managed to avoid my question. Do you have feelings for Toye?”

Luz huffs. “You’re an Empath, don’t act like you don’t know.”

“I don’t like to assume. Do you think he feels the same?”

“Honestly?” Luz asks with a sigh. “Some days it feels like maybe, like maybe there’s a spark of something that he could one day be interested. Other days it feels like he’s never even considered it. I don’t know, I have a hard time reading him, on most things.”

Luz thinks back on his misreading of Joe’s feelings for Malarkey, and tries not to let the embarrassment of what he did that night wash over him. 

Lipton looks a little lost in thought himself for a minute before looking down at his phone.

“Oh, looks like your meeting with Ron starts in a minute,” he informs Luz.

“Would you like me to get a read on him? Get him to get those feelings out in the open?” Luz asks as he stands up and gets ready to leave.

Lipton just groans. “Please don’t mention anything we’ve talked about to anyone.”

Luz grins and makes a cross over his heart.

“How have the meetings with Ron been, by the way?” Lipton asks.  “You haven’t really told me anything about them.”

“Well…he’s pretty intense. And that’s just in his normal day to day life. But when he’s talking about Mimics and their history and all that, it can get scary,” Luz admits.

“Yeah, Ron takes Mimics rights, in particular, very seriously,” Lipton explains.

“Why does he care so much?”

Lipton worries at his lip for a moment. “His great grandmother was a Mimic.”

Luz’s eyes widen. “Are you serious?”

Lipton nods, solemnly. “He never met her,  _ obviously _ , but his grandmother still had a few memories of her from when she was a child. The gene in his family died with his great grandmother, I think…I think he takes it very personally.”

Luz is stunned for a minute as he tries to process all this new information.

“You’re late, by the way,” Lipton finally says.

“Oh, shit, right. Okay, see you around, Lip!” Luz declares, heading for the door.

“Luz?” Lipton says before Luz opens the door

“Yeah?” he asks, turning back.

“Maybe next time you should try asking Malarkey about relationships. I don’t know what his secret is, but he and Buck seem to have a pretty well-functioning one, considering he’s an Empath.”

Luz agrees, they must be doing something right. 

-  
  


“You’re late,” is Speirs’ greeting when Luz walks into his office.

“Sorry, I was with Lipton,” Luz explains.

Speirs’ face noticeably softens at the mention of the other man, and Luz has no idea how Lipton could possibly  _ not _ see Speirs’ feelings.

“He actually told me something interesting about you,” Luz says before Speirs’ can get into another one of his history lessons.

Ron quirks an eyebrow at that admission.

“He told me that your great grandmother was like me. That she was a Mimic,” Luz explains.

Speirs quirks an eyebrow.

“Is that okay, that he told me?”

“It’s not a secret, at least not to anyone here,” Speirs replies with a shrug.

“So…that’s why you feel the way you do about Mimics? Because it’s in your genes?”

The harsh look Speirs gives him makes Luz lean back instinctively.

“I ‘feel the way I do about Mimics’ because we have been brainwashed to believe a whole group of people were evil based only on their genetics. My great grandmother never hurt a soul. She was kind and loving and never took anything she didn’t earn. She was taken from her home by the SAS and her husband and children never saw her again. They had to pretend like nothing happened, otherwise the belief of my family being Mimics would have spread and they all would have been killed.”

The sit in silence for a moment, Luz isn’t sure what to say, and Speirs just holds his glare and lets out a harsh breath.

“I’m sorry,” is what Luz finally settles on.

Speirs sighs and sits back in his chair. 

“I don’t want you to be sorry, George. I want you to give a shit.”

“I-“ Luz starts to argue, but is cut off.

“You don’t, not really. You’re still walking on eggshells here. You act like it’s dangerous for you to know how to use your abilities. I don’t know who or what drilled this idea into your head so hard that you don’t even trust yourself, but you’re not dangerous.”

Luz wants to argue, wants to tell Speirs that he knows all this. But the truth is, he’s not wrong.

“How can you know?” Luz asks, looking down at his hands.

“Because our genetics don’t have sole control over our choices. The Mimics that chose to steal people’s identities, who chose to hurt other people, they didn’t do that because they were Mimics, they did it because they were bad people, who were also Mimics.”

Luz nods, since his time with the group he understands that Mimics were not inherently bad people. But it doesn’t stop the fear from coiling through his nerves when he thinks about what he might do, if he somehow lost control of himself, if he no longer had a choice. 

Speirs must be able to sense his hesitance as he sits forward and attempts to catch his eyes.

“Luz, no matter what has happened in the past, no matter what anyone else has done, you are only responsible for yourself. You know who you are and what you will and will not do. You can be whatever you want to be, you can be  _ better _ . Hell, maybe you can make a better name for Mimics.”

“Yeah, it might be too late for that, there aren’t exactly any more left to  _ give _ a good name to.”

“You never know, you got past the monitoring, that has to mean more have or will. If the day comes when Mimics do come back, wouldn’t it be nice to be known as that upstanding citizen that was nothing like those Mimics we all fear so much?”

Despite himself, that thought makes Luz smile.

-  
  
  


He’s a little lost in his own head for the rest of the day. Ron’s words, telling him that he is in control makes him almost actually believe it. He feels somewhat lighter than before.

“You okay?” Joe’s question pierces through the thoughts running through Luz’s brain.

“Yeah, why?”

Joe shrugs. “You’ve been pretty quiet since yesterday, wasn’t sure if something happened.”

That makes Luz grin. “Nah, I’m good, nothing happened, or…nothing bad happened anyway. I guess I’ve just been thinking.”

“Oh, well we can’t have that,” Guarnere exclaims as he walks into the living room.

Luz rolls his eyes. “Someone in this house has to do the thinking, and it sure as hell isn’t going to be you.”

“Hey, I’m plenty smart, I tied me own boots this morning, all by meself,” Guarnere jokes, followed by one of his sharp laughs.

Luz just smiles, but doesn’t indulge him further. He looks over to Joe to maybe share an exasperated look, but Joe is still studying Luz like he’s worried.

“Seriously, Joe, I’m fine. Speirs and I talked yesterday and he got me thinking about some things. But it’s all good, I swear.”

“Did he finally talk you into joining us?” Guarnere butts in again, leaning over the couch rest between them.

“No, I like you all, but I’m not interested in working for you.”

“You sure? It’s a good organization, pays well and everything,” Guarnere tries again.

Luz shakes his head. “I just can’t, at least not right now anyway. I’m still working some things out with my own abilities, I don’t think I’d feel comfortable working to help other people with theirs.”

“Well, nobody is gonna make you do something you don’t want to do. For now, it’s nice just having ya here,” Guarenere says.

Joe just nods a little, verifying Guarnere’s claim, but doesn’t speak. The worried look Luz noticed before is still there.

-

  
The next morning, Luz wants some fresh air before he has to go to any of his appointments, so he grabs his coat and steps outside. He moves to sit on the front steps but he’s feeling restless. Remembering that there is a park at the end of the street, he decides that he’ll take a walk. As soon as he jumps from the last step he hears the front door open behind him. 

He rolls his eyes. “I’m just going for a walk to the park, I think I’ll be fine.”

He turns around, knowing who he’ll see. Sure enough, Joe is buttoning his own coat and giving Luz  _ the face _ . He knows this face well by now, it manages to communicate how unamused he is, as well as his unwillingness to continue on with the current conversation. Knowing there is no point in arguing, Luz just huffs, seeing the breath leave his mouth, and steps out onto the road. 

Except, a minute into his walk he realizes that Joe hasn’t caught up with him yet. He turns around to see that he is walking several feet behind him on the sidewalk. 

“What are you doing?” he calls over.

“You’re not walking down to the park without supervision, Luz.” Joe has also stopped and is lighting himself a cigarette.

“But why are you all the way over there?”

Joe shrugs, but starts walking toward Luz again. “Figured you wanted some space.”

“That’s dumb.” 

Joe shrugs again, stopping in front of Luz. Luz takes the cigarette from Joe’s mouth, grinning. They continue on in silence, passing the cigarette back and forth until it’s burned down and they’ve reached the park. 

It’s a small park, set up just for the neighborhood. There’s a swing set, slightly rusted with age, the swings stiff and creaking from the cold weather. A small metal jungle gym is set up next to the swings, a short slide and monkey bars the only things attached. A couple of picnic tables and benches are scattered around for parents and guardians to rest as their kids play. Luz sits at one of the swings, dragging his legs back and forth, the chains biting his fingers from the cold. He motions his hand to the swing beside him, but Joe just sits down at one of the benches. 

Luz looks around, let’s his mind wander. He thinks about how weird his life has become in such a short amount of time. The weirdest part, he decides, is that he actually feels more at ease and comfortable than he ever has before. Probably because he’s no longer hiding such a huge part of himself. But even without all of that, he lives in a house of people who protect him, he trains daily with people he considers his friends, to do things with his body that he never knew he could do. He still has to stop himself from wondering what it’s all really for, trying to remind himself that the group are good people, working toward an important goal. And they don’t want anything from him except to keep him safe and help him become more comfortable in his skin. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve it, but he definitely has to get them all some good Christmas presents. He’s wonders if he’s already missed Hanukkah. He’ll have to make it up to Liebgott.

He is lost in his thoughts enough that he startles when he feels Joe come up behind him and push. He turns to grin up at Joe, who isn’t really smiling back, but there’s amusement in his eyes so Luz just smiles bigger. 

Joe pushes Luz lightly a few times before speaking. “You okay?” 

“Hm?” Luz realizes he’s getting a little too distracted by the strong hands against his back. “Oh, yeah, I’m okay. Actually I was just thinking about how…good things are right now.”

Luz puts his feet down again, so they drag across the hard dirt. He feels Joe’s hands grab the chains right above where his own hands are gripping. He fights the urge to move his hands to close the small gap between them.

“It’s funny, right?” he says after they sit in silence for a few moments.

Joe doesn’t do anything for a few seconds. Eventually, he tugs the chains back a little before stepping around the swing so that they’re facing each other.

“What’s funny?”

“Our lives, they’re…well they’re not exactly normal.” 

As always, Joe’s face remains unreadable, but he does kick at Luz’s foot when he starts rocking back and forth on his swing. 

“Well, you’re not exactly normal,” he says after a long pause.

Luz ducks his head. “I guess not.”

“Hey,” Joe grabs at the chains again, this time his hands partially overlapping George’s, and Luz feels his heart stutter. “That’s not a bad thing. You’re one of a kind, you’re important.” 

Joe lets his hands fall away, stepping back a little. Luz thinks that Joe might be embarrassed, like maybe he’s revealed too much. So he stands, putting them back into being just a little too close for casual. 

“You are too, you know?”

Joe let’s out a small laugh.

“I’m serious.” Luz’s hand twitches, wanting to put his hand on Joe’s arm, but he thinks that might be a bit much.

Joe studies him for a moment then shrugs. “I’m just a dumb grunt whose only real skill is that I can hold my own in a fight.” 

“Uh, no. Actually you’re really smart, and also a good person?” Luz feels all prickly, his statements sounding more like questions, feeling like he wants to yell at someone for putting Joe down, but that doesn’t exactly work when it’s Joe himself.

Joe shakes his head before looking down, rubbing the back of his neck. He huffs out another laugh and Luz scowls.

“What?”

Joe lifts his eyes to him and Luz’s breath gets caught in his throat.

“It’s just…this shit you say sometimes. I don’t really…” he shakes his head again.

“What ‘shit’ do I say?” He asks, irritated.

Joe’s small grin placates Luz’s irritation a little.

“You’re always saying things like that. I guess I don’t…I just don’t really get it. Get why you,” he licks his lips, “ya know…like me.”

“Oh,” Luz’s heart is definitely racing now. He didn’t realize Joe had even noticed. “I-I can stop. If it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, I…” Joe starts quickly, pausing when he realizes how fast he responded. Luz tries to hide his grin. “I just…I don’t get why you do. I mean…” He trails off lamely, looking frustrated with himself.

“Well why wouldn’t I?” Luz feels emboldened again, now he’s finally starting to see where Joe’s head is at.

Joe shakes his head, again. “You act like maybe I’m more than I am. I…just trust me, there isn’t a whole lot more to me than what you know. I’m not some deep, mysterious guy with a bunch of layers to uncover. This is kind of it.” He opens his arms a little. His already quiet, raspy voice coming out even quieter. 

Part of Luz wants to shake him, but instead he smiles and steps even closer, almost completely in Joe’s space now. 

“Well, first, I’d just like to say that I believe you have more depth than you give yourself credit for. Second, even if you didn’t, that wouldn’t be that bad, because I like who you are just like this.” 

Joe’s eyebrows furrow. And Luz can almost see in his eyes an argument being formed. 

“Look, you’re loyal, and protective, and will do anything for a cause that you believe in. Even though there is no real gain for yourself. You’re a good guy right on the surface, Joe. I don’t have to look very deep to see any of that.”

Joe’s dark eyes are trained on him and Luz’s mouth has gone a little dry.

“Also,” he starts with a smirk, “on the surface, you’re pretty hot.”

Joe finally laughs at that, one of his small, raspy laughs, but Luz can tell it’s real. 

He grabs the edge of Luz’s jacket, pulling him in so Luz has to look up a little to meet his eyes. He can feel Joe’s body heat and all he wants to do is close the small gap between them, and the look he reads in Joe’s eyes seems to agree.

He’s just moving forward when the sound of Joe’s cell phone ringing startles them both. Joe looks about as irritated as Luz feels. 

“Yeah?” Joe answers, his voice somehow sounding even more gravelly than normal. His eyes are still trained on Luz and his thumb is stroking the collar of Luz’s coat. 

“Yeah, he’s with me.” Joe responds to whoever is on the other end. Luz has to look away from Joe’s dark eyes. He busies himself by playing with a button on Joe’s jacket.

“Sure. We’re just down by the park, we’ll be there soon.” 

Luz looks back up when Joe hangs up the phone. “They need me back there?”

Joe nods. “Both of us actually. Apparently you have a meeting with Winters and Nixon. And Liebgott needs me for something.”

“Okay. Just…” Luz leans up, lightly pressing his lips to Joe’s, a little off center, but Joe looks pleased when he pulls back a moment later. 

As they make their way back down the street Luz feels light, like maybe he’ll just start floating off the ground. He holds onto Joe’s arm just in case.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

 

Luz’s head is starting to hurt. 

He’s been standing in Winters’ office for almost an hour now, demonstrating for him and Nixon all the progress he has made with his ability.

“Try Lipton now,” Nixon instructs, sitting himself on the edge of Winters’ desk.

Luz takes a deep breath, concentrates on Lipton, and feels the changes in his body start taking place.

Nixon just studies him and nods, doesn’t give Luz any kind of feedback, just names someone else he wants Luz to mimic. At least he’s speaking though, since they’ve started this test, or whatever it is, Winters hasn’t said a word.

Once Luz has mimicked nearly everyone in the organization Nixon tells him he can take a seat.

“You’re coming along really well,” Winters finally says.

Nixon nods. “They all seemed like accurate mimics to me.”

Luz doesn’t really know what to say or how to feel about that so he stays silent.

“Those are all people you know, though. Do you think you could mimic someone you’ve never met?” Nixon asks, staring at him intently.

That sets off something in his brain. “Why would I need to know that?”

Nixon shrugs. “Just wondering if it comes from a more intimate understanding of the person or if you could do it based solely on what you can see.” He scratches at the beard that’s forming again along his jaw.

Luz crosses his arms and shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve never tried it.”

Nixon studies him for a moment before standing up straight. “What about your fingerprints?”

“What about them?”

“Do they change too?”

“I…I don’t know, I’ve never really noticed.” Luz doesn’t really like or understand where this line of questioning is headed.

“Here, mimic me again and we can study if your fingerprints match,” Nixon says, moving toward him.

But before Luz can feel anything more than confusion Winters cuts Nixon off.

“That’s enough, Lew,” he says, looking at his husband with a stern expression. 

Nixon looks at him for a moment before holding his hands up and walking over to his chair.

Winters then turns to look at Luz, his face looking much warmer than it had a moment ago. “Thank you. That’ll be all. You did well today.” 

Luz looks back and forth between the two men for a few moments before nodding and showing himself out of the office.

He spots Guarnere in the bullpen and makes his way over. 

“You ready to go?” Luz asks, not really wanting to stick around headquarters any longer than he needs to today. 

“Everything okay?” Guarnere asks him as he shuts down the computer he’s been working on.

Luz nods, but doesn’t say anything else. It’s not that anything is wrong, exactly, he’s just not really sure what Nixon’s end goal had been. Why would it even matter if his fingerprints change? Why would he need to change into someone he’s never met? Why does he need to change into anyone at all? It hadn’t felt like the questions he’d been asking were purely hypothetical. And the uncertainty surrounding that implication makes him nervous.

“So, what did they want with you?” Guarnere asks, as they make their way back to the safe house.

“They wanted me to show them all the different mimics I can do.”

“Like full mimics?”

Luz nods.

“Did you mimic me?”

Luz looks over at him, a little wary, but Bill doesn’t seem freaked out by the notion, he just looks curious.

“Yeah, I can mimic everyone in the group now,” he admits.

“Wow, that’s amazing.” He seems genuinely excited by the news.

Luz looks him over for a moment. “That doesn’t bother you? That I can just look like anyone I want?”

Guarnere shrugs before opening the gate leading to the backyard. “Why would it? You’re a Mimic.” 

His response seems simple, but Luz knows first-hand that knowing that he’s a Mimic and seeing him mimic someone are two different issues. He appreciates the acceptance, regardless.

-

 

Joe doesn’t come back from wherever he is with Liebgott, and Luz tries not to let that bother him. He spends the evening with Bill and Babe, learning more about them and how they got involved with the organization.

“I mean, I can understand people like Lip and Roe and Malarkey joining up, and Joe joining because of Malarkey. But I guess I don’t really see what you guys get out of it,” Luz admits, digging into the pasta that Guarnere had made for them.

“You mean, cause we don’t have abilities like the rest of ya?” Guarnere asks before taking a bite of his bread.

Luz nods. “It seems dangerous and like it takes up your whole lives, I mean, you technically live where you work.”

Babe looks thoughtful for a moment before he shrugs. “As jobs go, it’s not so bad, I was a night guard for a parking garage once, that was boring as hell.”

“Plus, just cause we don’t have abilities don’t mean we don’t care about the people that have ‘em and the shit people put ‘em through,” Guarnere answers.

“So you believe there is a registry? That they’re trying to start rounding up Empaths?”

Guarnere nods. “Oh yeah, I’ve seen it myself. Was helping Liebgott trail this kid who we’d heard might be an Empath. A week later, poof!” He snaps his fingers, “can’t find a trace of him. Looked like his parents were in on it too, since there were no police reports filed for the SAS to even cover up. No frantic parents on the evening news asking for their kid back. They probably contacted the SAS themselves when they realized what he was.”

Luz’s stomach tightens. He wonders idly if his parents would have done that if they knew the SAS would have been discreet, or if they really had been hiding him from the SAS as well as the rest of the world.

“So, what made you join though? Were you like Web and learned all about it in school?”

Babe shakes his head, but it’s Guarnere who speaks. “Nah, we were both pretty interested in your lot way before our college years.”

Luz looks at the two expectantly.

“There was a kid in our neighborhood. Everyone accused him of being an Empath. He was bullied so bad that his family had to move, ‘cause they were afraid he’d wind up dead, either by the angry street kids or ‘cause rumors would get out and bigoted people would come find him.” Babe explains, looking over at Guarnere for confirmation.

Guarnere nods. “Never did find out if he even was or not. Think he was just sensitive, but you can’t really be sure at that age.”

“You saw that and realized you wanted to help protect people?”

Babe shrugs and looks down at his food and Guarnere sighs. “Not exactly. We joined in on the teasing and name calling. I don’t think either of us really knew what it meant, it was just a mean thing to call someone, and everyone else was doin’ it, so why not? It was when we came across some older kids beating on him that I started to realize what we were takin’ part in. So, we stepped in, took the kid home, and a few days later, they moved.”

“So, you joined because you feel bad?”

Babe shakes his head. “Nah, I mean, I don’t feel good about it. But we were kids, it didn’t come from a place of hate. It’s when we realized that people could hate him just because he might be an Empath. We started learning about people with abilities in school, especially Mimics, but it just never made much sense to me that I should hate someone just because they had abilities or somethin’.

Guarnere nods. “We didn’t have any big, life changing epiphanies or nothin’. We just know the difference between right and wrong. Some people want to hurt other people because of their genes. Until people stop wanting to do that, it’s up to people like us to protect the ones we can as much as we can. It’s as simple as that.”

Babe nods and the two get back to eating.

“When you put it like that, it does sound pretty simple,” is all Luz can think to say.

-  
  


“Where’s Joe?” Luz asks Bill the next morning, walking into the kitchen to just see Guarnere sitting at the table, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

“Still out with Liebgott,” Bill tells him, his words coming out in lisps due to the food still in his mouth.

Luz cringes a little at Guarnere’s lack of decorum and grabs a mug to pour himself some coffee. He focuses on the task of adding just enough sugar to make it right, instead of on the disappointment, and slight worry, about Joe still being gone.

“Do these jobs usually last overnight?” Luz asks after a moment, trying to sound interested in the job itself instead of Joe’s well-being.

Guarnere shrugs. “Depends. Sometimes they can last a few hours, sometimes they can take weeks.”

Luz’s stomach twists a little at that. The way they left things, Joe can’t be gone for a week, Luz might actually drive himself insane.

He feels good about where they left things, it had felt like Joe had reciprocated his feelings, or at least appreciated them. If Joe’s not going to be around to talk to he needs to talk it out with someone, having it rattle around in his head over and over isn’t going to help him figure anything out.

“Can we head over when you’re done eating?” 

“I thought you didn’t have to meet Lip until 10,” Guarnere responds, taking another large spoonful of his cereal.

“I know, but I need to talk to him about something before our session starts,” Luz explains, keeping it vague.

Guarnere just shrugs in acceptance and continues eating his breakfast.

-  
  


About twenty minutes later they enter headquarters. Guarnere waves him off and heads down toward the bullpen while Luz makes his way over to Lipton’s office.

He’s about to knock when the sound of voices drifts out through the partially opened door. 

“-agreed we’d wait until he feels more confident. If we’re going to use him to get past the SAS security he’s going to have to feel less reluctant about using his abilities,” he hears Speirs say. 

There’s no doubt in his mind that Speirs and Lip, and whoever else is in there, are talking about him, but getting past security of a government agency? What the hell would they need him to do that for? A few quick thoughts flicker through his mind, but he pushes them aside and decides to keep listening, not wanting to jump to conclusions.

“From what we saw yesterday, it looks like he’s ready,” Nixon’s voice argues. His strange question yesterday, about Luz changing his fingerprints, is starting to make more sense.

“What do you think, Lipton?” Winters’ quieter voice asks.

It’s quiet for a moment, and Luz feels himself leaning in automatically, wondering what Lipton will say, hoping it will be something along the lines of ‘this sounds like a terrible idea.’

“I think…” he starts, “Ron’s right, about his confidence, it’s just not there yet. It’s one thing for him to change in front of Malarkey or Roe, I don’t think he feels comfortable doing it around the rest of the guys. Maybe…maybe we should talk to them, Guarnere, Babe, and Toye, maybe even Webster and Liebgott, maybe ask them to show some more interest in it when they’re with him? He’s definitely feeling better around everyone, so I think their support would help us out. He’s…he’s still pretty reluctant to join us completely. I think he just needs to spend more time with everyone, maybe…remind him that we’re his only real friends. Eventually, I think he’ll want to stay because we’re kind of all he has.”

With Lip’s response Luz isn’t sure he wants to hear more. But he can’t get himself to walk away before Winters speaks up again. 

“The friendships have gone better than any of us had anticipated. You, Roe and Malarkey have definitely been helpful in getting him to be more open, and it seems like that has allowed him to be more receptive to the other guys. And that’s helped him get better with his mimics, as well as made him less likely to run away,” Winters says thoughtfully.

Nixon laughs, “hell, we oughta give Toye a raise for everything he’s done for that particular cause.”

Luz jolts away from the door like he’s been burned. His chest feels heavy and he can’t quite process his surroundings. Part of him wants to just walk away, to not hear anything else and to try to forget everything he’s just heard, chalk it up to a big misunderstanding. But a bigger part of him needs to know, really, he needs them to tell him that what he’s heard is wrong, that he isn’t just being used, that this hasn’t all been an elaborate ploy to get him to work for them.

He takes a deep breath and opens the door, foregoing knocking at this point. As he walks in he notes four pairs of wide eyes look over at him.

“So,” he says, but can’t quite formulate anything else past that. 

Nobody moves for a moment, until Lipton stands, stepping toward Luz. But Luz just hold up his hand and Lipton stops, his grimace clear on his face. 

“Luz,” he begins, his voice placating. “What you just heard, it’s…it’s not what you think.”

“Okay, good. So you all didn’t bring me in to train me to use my abilities so that I can break into a government agency, for you?”

Lipton looks back at the other three and the absence of an answer is enough of one this time.

“Right,” is all Luz can say, he feels like his skin is buzzing.

“It’s not just for us, it’s for everyone here, and everyone who is unsafe because this agency exists, people like  _ you _ ,” Winters speaks up.

“Why me?” Luz asks, even though he knows the answer.

“We need someone who can hide in plain sight. We need a fingerprint for a new security system they have. We need someone who works there to work with us, and since we don’t have that, we need the next best thing,” Ron says, nodding his head to Luz, his voice even and businesslike. 

Luz shakes his head, because none of this is right, this isn’t how this was supposed to go. He should have walked in here and they should have eased his worries, should have said  _ something _ to make any of this sound okay, but none of it is, none of this is okay with him.

After no one speaks for a minute Nixon finally speaks up. “Look, we were going to wait to tell you, but since you know, we can start with getting this plan in motion.”

Luz reels back at that, Nixon can’t possibly think he is on board. He must be able to see how Luz is visibly shaking.

“What? No, fuck  _ no _ .” 

Ron sighs, “Luz-“

“No!” He rounds on Ron, pointing violently at him. “ _ You _ were the one who talked to me all about Mimics. About how everyone thinks Mimics are just a bunch of criminals who took whatever they wanted, just because they could.  _ You _ were the one who taught me that Mimics don’t need to be that, that I can be better than they were.  _ You _ were the one who said that I could give a good name to Mimics. How do I do that when I’m breaking into government buildings and stealing…what? Top secret, confidential information?”

“It’s what  _ needs  _ to be done, it’s for the greater good. Luz, this agency isn’t-“ Winters starts, but Luz has no patience for any of this anymore.

“No, fuck that, how do I even know that they’re the bad guys? How do I know you’re not just some terrorist group trying to take them down? Maybe they’re not even against me. Maybe whatever I steal for you you’ll just use to hurt other people with abilities.” The more he talks the more paranoid he feels, realizing that everything, these past two months, has been a lie. What the fuck is he even doing here?

“Luz, we’re your friends,” Lipton says, looking like he wants to try walking to him again, but he holds himself back.

“No, you’re not my friends. All you are is a group of people who found a Mimic, abducted him, and trained him to commit your crimes for you.” His stomach sinks as this realization leaves his mouth. He’s been so stupid, thinking that he had been anything more to them than some pathetic Mimic.

“That’s not true, we are your friends, George,” Lipton insists.

“No? I’m pretty sure I heard Winters say that you befriending me helped move things along, was becoming my friend part of the plan or not?” He knows the answer when Lipton’s gaze shifts, looking over to Winters for a moment then down at the floor. Luz swallows against the lump in his throat. The painful reminder of how close he felt to Lipton, to Roe and Malarkey, and Ron, to  _ everyone _ , and it’s all just been a lie. 

He doesn’t want to ask this next question, doesn’t want to know the answer, because he’s pretty sure he already knows it, but he may as well go for the kill. “And Joe Toye,” he starts, and their lowered heads have already answered this one but he continues on. “You made him my main body guard, you kept him close to me because…” He can’t say it, can’t speak over the humiliation that is ripping through his chest now, the sharp pang leaving him breathless. 

They all actually look shamefaced at that and for some reason that makes him feel even worse. Maybe because they had known exactly what they were doing, had known how Luz feels about Joe, that they know exactly how crushed he feels right now.

“Right,” he finally says, his voice is shaking now and he can’t, he  _ won’t _ start crying here. “Well, if you don’t mind, I guess I’d like to go back to my cell for a while.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Nixon scoffs. 

“Nix-“ Winters starts, but Luz speaks at the same time.

“Am I allowed to leave? Go home? Go back to my old life?”

The four men look at each other before Winters shakes his head. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Yeah, so you’ve said. But my safety is only  _ my _ concern, it has nothing to do with you. If I said I want to take full responsibility for myself, regardless of any injury or dangerous situation that may happen to me if you let me leave and stay away from me, it’s not up to you whether I’m safe or not, could I leave?”

Winters looks down at his desk. With a sigh he lets his eyes meet Luz’s again. “No. This is too important. And in time, I think you’ll accept that.”

Luz looks back to Nixon. “Right, so I think my classifying the bedroom I’m forced to sleep in surrounded by  _ guards _ in a house I’m not allowed to leave as a cell is perfectly fucking acceptable.”

He doesn’t wait for anyone to respond before he turns on his heel and walks out of the office.

 

He feels sort of on autopilot, not really noticing his surroundings, just trying to put as much space between him and those four men as possible. Before he knows it he’s stepping outside, but before he can even begin to entertain the thought of running he feels a hand wrap around his arm.

“Hey, where the hell are you going? Your meeting with Lip can’t be over already, can it?” Guarnere asks.

Luz frowns, it feels like a veil has been lifted, it feels like he’s seeing everything the way he should have been seeing since day one. 

He pulls his arm from Guarnere’s hold and doesn’t respond, why should he? He doesn’t owe any of these people any more than they’re already planning on taking from him. Instead, he just makes his way back toward the house. The literal house of security guards that he lives in, not for his protection from outside sources, but so that they can keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t try to run. For a moment, he’s back to being a child, stuck in a place with people who don’t want him around.

Bill quickly catches up with Luz’s angry stride but doesn’t ask any more questions.

He feels like such a fucking idiot. Believing that he had become friends with this group of people. Why had he been so quick to believe everything? A small voice in his head reminds him that it’s because it’s all he’s ever wanted, to have friends who cared about him regardless of who or what he was. He’d let his desire to be accepted cloud his judgment through this whole fucking ordeal. 

He opens the back door and walks into the kitchen, Guarnere close behind.

 

_ Speaking of clouded judgment _ .

Joe is back, leaning against the island, reading a piece of paper. But when Luz walks in he looks up and grins.

Luz wants to hold onto the anger that has been fueling him, he wants to push Joe and tell him to go fuck himself. Though he knows he was just acting under orders. They must have been able to tell how Luz had reacted to him, hell, he basically got himself kidnapped because he just blindly followed Joe, a complete stranger at the time, out of a bar. Of course they used Joe, it made sense.

He feels the anger drop out of him, and all that’s left is a sickening combination of humiliation and sadness.

“Everything okay?” Joe asks after no one talks for a moment.

Luz vaguely notes Guarnere walking past him, grumbling “maybe you can get him to talk,” as he walks out of the room.

Joe looks concerned, and he takes a step forward. Luz has to steel himself, he doesn’t want to do something to make this humiliation even worse.

“Well good news, Toye. Your job is about to get a hell of a lot easier.” His voice sounds lifeless, but at least it’s not shaking.

Joe steps closer, putting his hand on Luz’s arm. “Oh yeah? Why’s that? And since when do you call me Toye?”

Luz pulls his arm from Joe’s grip, sidestepping around him so that he can leave the kitchen. No amount of steeled resolve is going to help him deal with this situation apathetically, he needs to just be alone.

“It’s okay, I know basically everything now. So you don’t have to keep indulging me. Look I…I’m sorry they made you do that. I’m sure this isn’t what you signed up for when you joined,” he says before he exits the kitchen.

“You mind telling me what the hell you’re talking about so I can get on the same page?” Joe asks, following Luz down the hallway.

“I know, Toye, okay?” His voice quivers on his name, trying to convince himself that it’s just because he’s not used to using it.

He turns to look at Joe once they’re outside of his room. Joe reaches up like he might touch him again, but Luz puts his hands up, and Joe stops his movement.

“Okay,” Joe starts slowly. “What do you know?”

Luz huffs, he really doesn’t want to have to say it out loud. 

“Everything! I know the plan. I know that the only reason I’m here is because you guys need me to break into the SAS facility. I know that this,” he gestures all around him, “isn’t for my protection at all. I know it’s to keep me from running away. That’s it’s my own comfortable prison.” 

His voice is starting to get shakier now, and he tries to swallow to calm himself down “And I know that they made you keep the sad Mimic happy and distracted so I wouldn’t want to leave. Because that’s all I am, right? Just a Mimic, just some freak, who is so lonely and…and pathetic,” his breathing is coming out harsh and he sounds like he’s already crying and this is not how he had wanted to handle this, but he may as well go down looking as stupid as possible, “it was so fucking easy for you all to get me to blindly follow along.” 

Luz doesn’t know how he’d describe Joe’s face, he just looks…sad, maybe pitying. 

“I’ll…I’m just gonna stay in my room from now on, when they don’t need me for their freak show demonstrations. So…y-you don’t have to worry about me bothering you anymore.”

Luz turns and walks into his room when he finally feels a tear escape down his cheek, and locks the door behind him when he hears Joe say his name. His whole body is shaking, and he rubs at his eyes until they sting, trying to get rid of every stupid tear he has for these people, that he has for his feeling of hopelessness, for his embarrassment of how he handled this whole situation. 

He looks out his window when he sees Joe walking out the back, probably on his way to headquarters, probably to inform them of everything Luz revealed, or figure out what to do now that he knows.

And fine, Luz doesn’t care what they decide, all he really cares about is why they would do this to him. Why they think they can just take a person, make them think they’re wanted, and use them, without any real input from him. Why they think they can use a person without any regard to what it might do to them.

Really, he knows the answer. He’s not a person, not to society, not to the government, and not even to these people. He’s a Mimic. And as he’s known his whole life, the only good Mimic is a dead Mimic. Or, in the groups case, one who can be used for their amusement and gain. He supposes he’s lucky, they don’t want to kill him, just use him to do something he never wants to do. He doesn’t want to be like the Mimics that history remembers. He doesn’t want to use his abilities to hurt or take. But now he has no real choice. Because they’re not just going to let him leave and continue living his life as an anonymous, hidden Mimic. Unable to connect with other human beings, but at least he wouldn’t be a monster. No, they won’t let him go, but what will they do if he refuses? He doesn’t think they’ll kill him, it doesn’t really seem like their style, then again he’s only just finding out who they really are. They’ll probably just wear him down, convince him that he’s literally nobody without them, without their help, without their protection, or without their friendships. He can’t just stay in this room forever, trying to fight what is inevitable.

He rubs his hands over his eyes and growls in frustration. He can’t just  _ leave. _ He’s got nowhere to go, and anywhere he might go they’d be able to find him. He needs to think, he needs to think outside of this room, away from everyone, for just an hour or so. But they won’t just let him leave without supervision, especially not now. They’re not going to accept that he needs to take a walk, clear his head, figure out what the fuck he’s going to do, and believe he’ll just come back. 

He takes a deep breath, employing some of Malarkey’s teachings, and thinks. The only way he’ll be able to leave for an hour is if nobody sees him, or if they see him and don’t realize it. He looks around the room for a moment, wondering if he should leave a note. He decides against it, hoping he’ll be able to slip out and back in without alarm bells going off.

He ducks his head out to the hall, the house seems quiet. His heart pounds as he walks down the hallway to Joe’s room, slowly opening the door so that it won’t make a sound. Joe’s room is clean and plain, the only furniture is a bed, a nightstand, and a dresser. No pictures on the walls or really anything that looks personal. 

Luz pulls open a dresser drawer and grabs one of Joe’s many black T-shirts. He also grabs the cigarettes that he’s left on top of the dresser.

Once again, he sticks his head out into the hallway. He wishes he knew where the rest of the guys were. Babe and McClung may not even be here, but he knows Guarnere is, and not knowing when or if he’ll pop up has his palms sweaty.

He closes Joe’s door and steps into the bathroom, flicking on the lights. He moves the shower curtain aside and turns the handle for the water, he pulls the lever to change the water flow and the shower head spurts twice before the steady stream of water comes out. He pushes the curtain back in place, pulls his shirt off and tosses it to the floor. He catches himself in the mirror and stops for a moment. He looks at his regular brown hair, his normal brown eyes, his non-descript nose and lips. Maybe he is just a blank slate.

He shakes himself out of his thoughts and pulls Joe’s T-shirt over his head. Closing his eyes, he pictures Joe, takes a deep breath and lets his body do the rest. He opens his eyes to see a strange mixture between himself and Joe, his hair is getting shorter and darker and curling, his face is longer, his nose becoming harsher. His already brown eyes get even darker. He studies himself again as the transformation is complete, and shudders a little, not liking the idea of mimicking Joe, but desperate times and all that.

He closes the bathroom door behind him and tries to adopt Joe’s confident gait as he makes his way out the front door. 

He’s almost to the front steps when he hears “Is Luz okay?”

He turns to see Guarnere sitting on the porch swing, looking away from the phone in his hand toward Luz, or  _ Joe _ , expectantly. 

Luz panics for a second, not really sure how Joe and Bill interact with each other when he’s not around, other than Malarkey, Guarnere is probably Joe’s best friend. 

He shrugs, “who cares?” His voice coming out as raspy and unaffected as always. 

Guarnere raises his eyebrows at that. So, maybe not the right way to go.

“He’s taking a shower,” he adds quickly.

“Okay…” Bill’s eyebrows fall from raised to furrowed. 

Luz walks down the porch steps. “I’m gonna take a walk. I, uh, I need to make a phone call.”

“To who?” 

He tries to send him a classic Joe Toye glare, but he has a feeling that those come from deep inside Joe, and Bill is probably the least affected by the real ones already.

But Bill just throws his arms up, “fine, a super-secret phone call, maybe afterwards you and Luz can get your shit figured out so you’re both not so fuckin’ cranky.”

Luz just pulls one of Joe’s cigarettes out, lighting it as he makes his way down the street. His heart doesn’t stop beating rapidly even after he’s turned a corner, still sure that Guarnere will realize that he’s not Joe, and drag him back to the house.

After several blocks, he relaxes a little, sure that nobody is following him. Looking around, he notices that he’s edging toward a more deserted part of town. There are less houses here, some of them have boarded up windows. He can see an old, abandoned warehouse down a ways, and walks toward it. There are no cars going by, and he looks around one more time, to make sure nobody can see him, before he lets go of Joe, changing back to himself. 

He tries to sift through his options. Leaving, though ideal in theory, isn’t an option. He’s got nowhere to go; he literally has nobody to turn to. Lipton had been right, they’re the only friends he has.  

Maybe they were telling the truth, that somehow, despite what he knows from past experiences, they all really do like him and want him around. Just because it had been the initial plan doesn’t mean none of them grew to genuinely like him. Malarkey, and Roe, and Babe and Guarnere, even Webster and Liebgott, they can’t all be completely faking the camaraderie he feels with them. He may not be a standard Empath, but it hasn’t  _ felt _ fake. 

With Lipton and Toye it’s harder. Lip is probably the best friend he’s ever had, and he’s known this whole time, he’s lied outright about what they had expected from him. Lip knows so much about Luz’s past, about his issues with other people, and he still chose to lie to him. He’s not sure if he can get past that. And Joe, Luz has no idea about Joe. He maybe should have let him speak earlier, either to deny Luz’s claims or admit to them, but the humiliation is still burning through him like the acid in his stomach is bubbling over. He’s not sure he can deal with the truth of it right now.

There’s still the matter of what he’s going to do about mimicking into some kind of government official. It doesn’t seem like he has a choice there, and maybe he should just give in, do what they ask and be one of them. If that’s even still an option anymore. He doesn’t want to, the idea of what they want him to do makes him feel ill, makes him feel like they’re going to slowly turn him into the Mimic everyone knows and fears. Like maybe it’ll flip a switch in him, using his mimicking to get whatever he wants, and he’ll use his abilities to become what he has always feared he would. He already used his mimicking to get out of the house to go for a walk, maybe it’s just the start of it, maybe after a few times of following orders for them, he won’t be able to control himself and the Mimic will take over.

He tries to calm his breathing as he sees someone walking toward him. He braces himself, but the man just walks past, without any sort of acknowledgment. 

Breathing a sigh of relief, he continues on. 

 

Only, a few moments later, a large SUV turns the corner and stops just a few feet from him. He ducks his head down and starts to walk away, but he feels arms encircle him. Before he can even try to fight off his faceless assailant, he feels a prick at his neck, and the world gets hazy. 

He only sees a blurry outline of a man before everything goes dark.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all from Joe's POV, starting from when we last saw him in the previous chapter.

“Luz,” Joe tries to stop him, but the bedroom door is already closed and he can hear the lock click into place.

Joe feels sick, and furious. The look on Luz’s face still swimming in his mind, devastation and humiliation evident. Joe wants to punch something. Or maybe someone.

He knows he’s not going to get Luz to talk to him any time soon, but he sure as hell can get one of their leaders to tell him what is going on and what kind of bullshit they’re trying to pull.

He tries to take deep breaths as he makes his way over to HQ, knowing it won’t do any good if he does end up punching someone. He’s not a teenager anymore, he knows that his penchant for dealing with his problems through violence is not always productive.

 

Malarkey is there when he walks up, unlocking the backdoor.

“Hey, Joe, how’s it going?” 

Joe doesn’t have the time or patience for pleasantries though, so he walks past him after he’s opened the door.

“Whoa, what happened?” Malarkey asks from behind him, following him into the building.

Joe continues to stomp his way over to the offices, knowing who he wants to yell at first. Thankfully, when he barges into Lipton’s office, all four of them are there.

“What the fuck do you all think you’re doing?” he growls after slamming the door open, the four men jump in surprise.

“Joe-“ Winters begins, placating, but he is not in the mood for that.

“What the fuck did you tell him?”

“The truth,” Nixon chimes in. “We need him to Mimic one of the executives at the SAS agency, obtain their records, especially on current and assumed people with abilities.”

“So you want a Mimic to break into the one organization that is trained to recognize, hunt down, and kill Mimics?” he asks rhetorically. He’s not actually here to discuss the big plan, he pretty much surmised it from Luz’s explanation. 

He doesn’t wait for them to respond before speaking again. “He thinks we were all faking it, that none of us give a shit about him, that the only reason we put up with him is because we need him for this. He thinks we just see him as a Mimic, who is desperate enough for people to like him that we could just take advantage of that.”

Speirs nods. “We may have worded some things poorly, we had implied that our plans included befriending him, to get him to work for us. He refused to believe that we actually do think of him as our friend.”

“Well why would he? He’s spent his whole life trying and failing to make friends. Why would he ever think that you’re sincere when the entire reason he’s even here has been a lie?”

He rounds on Lipton, no doubt in his mind that Luz has probably told him all of this.

“How could you do this to him? How could  _ you _ do this?” Joe notes the distress on Lipton’s face, but right now he’s too angry to care.

“Hey! Don’t put this on him,” Speirs steps up, and if this was a different moment, a different day, Joe would be teasing him for being so obvious. 

But right now, he’s only focused on Lipton. “Of all the people here, you had to be the last person that he thought would do this to him, and you knew the whole time. Was it all an act for you?”

“No, of course not,” Lipton responds, shaking his head, but not looking up at Joe.

Joe does know that. Somewhere, in the back of his head, he still knows what kind of person Carwood Lipton is, and he’s not the type of person to manipulate or use someone for his own amusement. But most of Joe’s mental faculties are focused on not turning violent and being livid over these people hurting Luz. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s also pretty frustrated that he hadn’t been clued into any part of their big plan.

“You should have told us what was going on. Guarnere, Babe, McClung and I, we may just be some dumb grunts to you, but we can’t do our jobs well if we don’t know what we’re actually doing. Hell, we all think we’re a bunch of body guards, now I’m finding out that we’re actually just supposed to keep him from escaping. That requires a different sort of approach than what we’ve been doing, you know?”

“That’s not fair, Joe,” Winters says, and Joe knows he’s been deliberately hitting low blows, but he wants to make them feel as bad as he does, as bad as Luz feels. “You all are doing exactly what you need to do, keeping him here and keeping him safe. That’s all we want.”

Joe huffs. “I won’t be his prison guard. You can reassign me, or kick me out, but I won’t keep him here against his will.”

“You know,” Nixon sighs, “we wouldn’t have had to do any of this if he had come here the way we originally planned, you know,  _ voluntarily _ .”

The knot that Joe has been feeling growing in his stomach tightens, and at the same time Winters and Malarkey - who apparently followed him into the room - speak up.

“Hey!” Malarkey protests.

“Nix,” Winters warns.

Even Nixon doesn’t look very pleased with his own return blow, because he knows, they  _ all _ know how bad Joe feels about what happened that day, the day he kidnapped a Mimic and dragged him into this world. Both Malarkey and Lipton had talked to him about it, about the alarming amount of distress they had felt off of him after he returned with Luz. The whole time Joe had felt like he might have been sick. Hearing Luz pleading with them to let him go, knowing he thought they were going to kill him had almost been too much for Joe to handle. Now that he actually knows Luz, Joe knows he won’t be able to fight off that feeling again.

“Fine, I fucked up, we all know that. But I’m not the one who chose to lie to him, or to make plans for him without asking him or caring about how he actually felt. I’m not the one who made you decide to take advantage of him, to make plans around him like he’s not worth more to you than what he can offer. He may be a Mimic, but he’s also a fucking human being, and for some reason I thought this group cared about that kind of thing.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before turning and stomping out of the office, brushing past Malarkey on his way out.

Malarkey calls after him, and before he can make it to the door to exit the building he feels Malarkey’s hand on his arm.

“Joe, wait, just wait.”

He rounds on Malarkey, “did you know about this too?” His glare at full force is less effective on Malarkey, but it still manages to make him flinch.

“Don’t do that, I know you’re upset, but don’t take it out on me,” Malarkey says, lifting his chin in defiance to Joe’s anger.

“Did you know?”

Now it’s Malarkey’s turn to glare, crossing his arms. “You know I didn’t.”

Joe deflates, his shoulders falling and losing his glare. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“I get it, Joe, I do. The way they went about this was shitty, but we all knew about Luz’s aversion to being too involved in what we do, they probably just thought that they could acclimate him enough that he’d be willing to work with us just because he wanted to, so they waited to tell him about it. I guess we should all know by now that any plans we try to make where Luz is involved aren’t going to turn out quite like we hope.”

Joe smirks, no, hoping Luz will let any plan go the way they want is pretty futile.

“But, Joe, they’re not wrong.” 

He drops his smirk and huffs, turning to walk out the door, but Malarkey follows him.

“Listen, you know I’m not against you here, I know that you know it’s the best way.”

Joe doesn’t stop walking, but he also doesn’t shove Malarkey off when he sidles up next to him. Because he does get it, he understands their need for a Mimic for what they need to do, and he believes in the importance of what they need to do. Having a list of people with abilities will give them a leg up both on recruitments as well as give them the ability to help those people who may be in danger of being taken. For the past few years or so Empaths have been going missing, slowly, but it’s beginning to pick up and if there is something they can do to protect these people they have to try. Joe does believe in what they’re doing, and understands how having a Mimic to help with this type of thing is ideal, but this isn’t just a Mimic, this is Luz. 

Joe never put much thought into Mimics, it’s not like there have ever been any around during his lifetime. When Nixon and Winters had come to him, asking him to keep an eye out on an old friend of Webster’s, who they believed might be a Mimic, he had been shocked and a little creeped out at the thought. Watching him from across a bar, he had been sure that Webster was just being dramatic, as usual. There was nothing in the man’s behavior that indicated he might be a Mimic, then again, he had no real idea what that might have looked like.

When Joe had approached him, he had noticed the glint in his eyes and hadn’t felt the unease he had been expecting with being near a Mimic. When he had agreed to talk to Joe alone so easily he had been sure that Webster had been wrong, there was no way a Mimic would be so affable with a stranger. It was only after he had gotten to know Luz that he understood why Luz had followed him so easily at first, the thought making him a little embarrassed but mostly pleased. 

Getting to know Luz has changed everything for him in terms of how he sees Mimics. Sure, history is littered with bad Mimics, but history is littered with shitty people in general. Where he used to only concern himself with Empath rights, he now spends some of his nights reading all about the terrible things Mimics had been put through due to ignorance and fear. More than anything though, is that he’s gotten to know Luz. And Luz isn’t just a Mimic, he’s a multifaceted human being who is funny, and self-conscious, and kind-hearted, and annoying, and so open, yet somehow also so guarded. More than anything, Luz is a good person, with good intentions, who was dealt a shitty hand and spent a good deal of his life surrounded by shitty people. So when people offered him support and friendship he took it easily, but when the fear that it had all been fake had surfaced he believed it completely.

“Once Luz has had time to calm down, and we are able to explain our parts in this, and Lipton can talk to him, I think he’ll come around,” Malarkey says as they walk in through the back door of the house.

Joe just nods, not sure if he’s right, but he wants to believe him. If nothing else, Luz has to know that Joe hadn’t been lying, that what’s been happening between them, what happened yesterday, hadn’t been because of some stupid job.

They walk down the hallway to the bedrooms, stopping in front of Luz’s door. 

“He probably won’t want to listen to us,” Joe says, hesitating. 

Malarkey just looks at him for a moment before knocking on the door.

“Luz, it’s me, and Joe, can we talk to you?” he calls out, but Luz doesn’t respond.

Joe sighs. “Luz, please just give us a chance, Malark and I had nothing to do with the plan, okay? Just let us in to talk for a minute.”

There’s still no response, he looks over to Malarkey who looks confused.

“What?”

Malarkey shakes his head then reaches for the door, turning the knob. Joe is about to warn him that he heard Luz lock his door, but the latch gives and the door opens.

Luz isn’t there and they look at each other for a moment before heading back down the hallway.

Outside the bathroom door Malarkey stops. “Wait, I think I can hear water running. Maybe he’s in the shower? Luz?” he calls out but Luz doesn’t respond.

Joe turns and sees Bill sitting outside on the front porch.

“You see if you can get him to answer, I’m gonna go see if Bill talked to him,” Joe says, walking to the front door.

“Hey, is Luz in the shower?” Joe asks, sticking his head out the front door.

Guarnere jumps at his sudden appearance. He looks over at Joe, then out on the street, confused for a moment.

“Is this some kind of test?” 

“What? I just need to know if Luz is taking a shower.”

“I’m gonna take your word for it, I haven’t been inside since your last update.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Joe is starting to get frustrated with Bill’s behavior.

“Look, I’m sorry Luz is pissed at you or whatever, but you don’t need to bite  _ my _ head off, or pretend to make a phone call just so you can go sulk.”

“Okay, I’m really lost now, what the fuck are you talking about?” Joe steps outside fully now.

Bill just huffs in annoyance and goes back to playing on his phone.

“What phone call?” Joe asks, clearly Guarnere has decided he’s done with their conversation, but Joe sure as hell isn’t.

“Christ, Joe, the phone call you just went off to make, your ‘super-secret phone call’. Can’t even remember your own lie from ten minutes ago?”

“I wasn’t here ten minutes ago.”

“Fine, fifteen minutes, whatever.”

“No, Guarnere, I was at headquarters fifteen minute ago. I haven’t talked to you all day. Especially not about some phone call…”

Bill looks baffled and a little like he’s worried for Joe’s sanity, but Joe doesn’t stick around to explain.

He’s stopped in his tracks for a brief moment when he steps into the living room though, and he sees Lipton and Winters standing there.

“We wanted to talk to Luz, try to explain a little better, hopefully ease some of his worry,” Lipton says, but Joe is already walking again.

Malarkey is still standing outside the bathroom door, but he seems to have come to the same conclusion that Joe has. Joe opens the door, the humidity seeping out doesn’t stop him from ripping the shower curtain open. Nobody is there.

“Shit!” He turns to see Malarkey, Lipton and Winters in the threshold, Guarnere trying to look over their shoulders to see in.

Joe turns off the shower and they all walk back into the living room.

“What the fuck is going on?” Bill asks.

“Well, it looks like our prisoner disguised himself as me in order to get out, and because we hadn’t been properly briefed about our real goal of detaining him we weren’t exactly prepared for him to pull an escape like that,” Joe explains to Bill angrily, but his gaze never leaves Winters’ face.

“Why would Luz want to escape?” 

“Because we weren’t protecting him, we kidnapped a Mimic, then trained him to break into a government facility for us, and were keeping him here against his will.”

“Wait, what?” Bill rounds on Lipton and Winters now too.

“We don’t have time for this,” Malarkey interrupts. 

“He’s right, when did he leave?” Winters asks Guarnere. 

Guarnere just glares at him for a moment before looking at Joe. “Couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes ago, I know which way he went.”

They leave the other three behind without a backward glance, jumping into Guarnere’s car and heading into the direction of where Bill had last seen Luz.

 

They’re quiet for a while, trying to keep an eye out for him, but once they’re in the old warehouse district Guarnere looks over at him.

“What the fuck is going on, Joe?”

Joe sighs and scrubs his face. “They want to use him to break into that Special Abilities Services building and do some heist shit or something. But along with keeping us in the dark about it they didn’t tell Luz anything about it either. I guess he overheard them, now he thinks we’re all just using him and being nice to him so he’ll do what we want.”

“Well…shit.” Is all Guarnere can say, Joe nods in agreement.

“I guess he figured that leaving would be a better option than sticking around a group of people who don’t actually like him.”

“But that’s not true, he’s gotta know that.”

Joe shrugs. “He’s never had the best luck with people, using him, not giving a shit about him, abandoning him, I’m surprised he even trusted us in the first place.”

They drive for a few more minutes, but they know he can’t have gotten this far, even if he had been running. They go down side streets and alleyways, but to no avail.

There’s a pit in Joe’s stomach, that’s been there for a while. Before, he had assumed it was because of how upset Luz had been, but right now he feels like it’s telling him that Luz isn’t just on the run. It’s telling him that Luz is in trouble, he can just feel it.

  
  


They drive around for about an hour before making their way back to the house. Joe feels like he’s going to be sick.

When they walk into the living room, almost everyone is there. Roe, Babe, Malarkey, and Webster are all sitting around the coffee table, looking at a map. Winters and Nixon are speaking softly to each other, leaning up against the far wall. And Joe can see Liebgott pacing back and forth in the kitchen, speaking rapidly into his phone. Lipton and Speirs seem to be absent. 

As they walk through the threshold, the four around the table look up at them. Winters looks up too, but then back to Nixon, who is still speaking.

“Nothing?” Webster asks, rhetorically, and Joe just throws himself into the armchair in response.

“We’ll find him, he couldn’t have gotten far,” Babe says, trying for optimism.

“He’s in trouble.” Joe looks at Malarkey, knowing he’ll understand.

Malarkey’s eyes widen, knowing why Joe would be so confident about that, having been the subject of most of Joe’s weird intuition most of his life.

“We don’t know that, he hasn’t been gone long,” Babe tries again.

Malarkey shakes his head. “No, we do know, Joe knows.”

“But-“ Babe starts but Roe cuts him off, shaking his head.

They all look up when there is a loud curse from the kitchen. Liebgott walks in soon after, looking frustrated.

“What the fuck is the point of having contacts if they’re useless when you need them? Nobody has seen him, or heard anything even remotely related to him.”

“Well, he can look like anything, did you tell people that?” Guarnere asks.

“That would require me to tell people that he’s a Mimic, all that’s gonna do is put him in more danger,” Liebgott sneers.

“Well then what the fuck are we supposed to do?” Guarnere yells back, throwing up his hands in frustration.

“How about his coworkers?” Joe asks, trying to keep the conversation constructive.

Malarkey shakes his head. “We already called them all, we’re going to have McClung stationed at his work just in case he turns up, but…” he trails off, as they’ve already established that Luz isn’t just wandering around out there anymore.

“Family?” Guarnere asks.

“No, he’s not in contact with them,” Webster speaks up, looking away from where he’s been shooting his husband concerned glances.

“How do we know?” Babe asks.

“Trust me on this, he’s been dead to his family long before now. It probably wouldn’t even occur to him to go to them for help,” Webster explains.

Joe thinks about what Luz had told him about his family, about his mom. He feels the knot in his stomach grow tighter.

“Well we can’t just wait for one of Lieb’s contacts to get back to him with some news. We have to do something,” Guarnere complains.

“Joe can find him,” Malarkey speaks up, his voice quiet.

“Malarkey,” Joe tries to argue, but Malarkey looks determined.

“If you’re going to say that you know he’s in trouble, and believe it, then you have to believe that you can find him too,” he presses.

They stare at each other for a few moments before Liebgott speaks up.

“What the hell are you guys talking about?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Joe insists, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. He’s annoyed and a little embarrassed that Malarkey is choosing to bring this up in front of everyone.

Malarkey just continues to stare at him.

“Malarkey?” This time it’s Winters, walking over to them, Nixon right behind him.

Malarkey looks around at everyone’s expectant faces, then back to Joe, who just shakes his head. Malarkey lifts his chin.

“Joe is a Guardian,” he states simply, as if that’s enough of an explanation for anyone.

Joe groans and slides further down into his seat.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Liebgott asks, though he looks slightly amused by Joe’s discomfort. Everyone else looks like they want to ask the same question.

“When we were kids, he’d just know when I was in trouble and be able to find me without even thinking about it. We were like tied together by it,” Malarkey begins to explain. “So, in college, I was interested in why we seemed to have that connection, so I did some research. The only thing I could find was this one study done back in the 70’s, but this doctor proposed a theory that Empaths have companions that he called Guardians. There was only anecdotal evidence, and I wasn’t ever able to find anything else published about it, but he wrote that in all the Empaths he studied they all had a person in their life that always seemed to just show up when they needed them. Like one of the subjects talked about how her car broke down and her friend just happened to drive by, and her friend hadn’t known why she was even driving that way, she just felt like she should. Another guy talked about how he was always getting hurt or about to get hurt and his wife somehow always seemed to just show up right on time. I think that Joe is Luz’s Guardian.”

“There are so many ridiculous things you just said in there, I don’t even know where to start,” Nixon responds after a moment, as the room stares in disbelief at Malarkey.

“What? Why?”

“Well, ignoring the fact that there is literally  _ no _ scientific evidence…” Nixon starts, but Babe jumps in.

“But I thought you said that Joe was  _ your _ Guardian,” Babe points out.

Malarkey shakes his head. “No, see, we were like placeholders for each other. Buck is my real Guardian, and Joe is really Luz’s.”

“Ok, I can’t believe I’m even entertaining this for a second, but there’s a glaring problem with your theory. Besides, you know,  _ all of it _ ,” Liebgott starts, ignoring Malarkey’s protest. “You’re saying Guardians are connected to Empaths, Luz isn’t an Empath.”

“Yes he is,” Roe finally speaks up and all eyes turn to him.

“Wait, what?” Webster is the first to ask.

“He…The Mimic gene was pretty much wiped out years ago, right? So how could it have shown up one day in some random person’s genes and not been noticeable to doctors or SAS? I know none of us had actually met a Mimic before Luz, but he’s not the way most Mimics actually were reported to be, and I don’t just mean by their critics. The original mutation was some kind of defense mechanism to repel others from the Mimic, or hide them from others. When that defense mechanism actually made it so that people were more inclined to get rid of them I believe that it mutated, over time, to take on the traits of Empaths and Healers. Luz doesn’t make people feel uneasy the same way the original Mimics did, at least when he’s not feeling uneasy himself. From our experience, I’d say most of us enjoy his presence as long as he’s in a good mood. Plus, he, subconsciously, has the tendency to change himself to look more like what people want him to look like. These are all different techniques that keep him, or the mutation, safe, by using the abilities that Empaths and Healers have. So, technically, he is an Empath.”

Everyone stares at Roe for a moment. Joe isn’t sure if he’s more amazed by this new piece of information or the fact that this may be the most he’s heard Roe speak at any one time.

“See! And Joe is his Guardian, so he’s probably got extra Guardian like traits to be connected with someone like Luz, and that’s why Joe is so in tune with other Empaths, he…he’s like a Super Guardian,” Malarkey exclaims. Joe is pretty sure that’s not what Roe had been saying, he also feels like he wants to crawl into a hole.

Nixon grins. “Malarkey.”

“What?”

“No, I’m saying this is all bullshit,” Nixon explains, his grin widening.

“Ha ha,” Malarkey deadpans. “I’m not wrong.”

“You sound pretty fucking wrong to me,” Liebgott maintains.

“Why wouldn’t there be any more studies done?” Webster wonders aloud, “even if it was a small study surely someone would have picked it up and tried to further it or at least disprove it.”

Roe straightens up. “Well, there aren’t actually that many well researched studies done on people with abilities. There’s been too much politics, not enough resources and participants, and a general agreement among most of society that they’d just rather not know anything about us. So, I can’t imagine it’s very easy to get the funding for that kind of study basically starting from scratch. And something like this, it seems more…metaphysical than basic genetics.”

“You don’t believe it either?” Malarkey asks, deflating a little after no longer having Roe on his side.

“I couldn’t say either way, I have no real evidence to support or deny it,” Roe says with a shrug.

“I think it makes sense,” Babe pipes in.

“It doesn’t, though,” Nixon argues. 

“It could be interesting to do some of my own research into the theory, just to see if there isn’t something genetics based there,” Roe says, thoughtfully.

Babe and Malarkey both grin at him and he shrinks back a little, self-conscious.

“How is any of this helping us find Luz?” Joe asks, because this isn’t the time to be talking about theories, scientifically valid or not. They need to find Luz as soon as possible, who knows what they are going to do to him. Capturing the only known Mimic in the world, he really hopes that whoever has him sees some kind of benefit in keeping him alive, and unharmed.

“Well, if you’d just  _ try _ -“ Malarkey starts, but cuts himself off with a huff as Joe just glares at him.

“We need a list of anyone who may have wanted to take him, SAS agents, private research companies, any groups we know of that would like to get their hands on a Mimic,” Winters’ says, his voice calm and collected, but Joe can see stress behind his eyes.

“Or even just a group of bigots, Luz could have transformed out of his mimic of Joe in front of the wrong person and they could have taken him,” Nixon reasons. It’s a rational enough thing to consider, but that doesn’t stop Joe from nearly growling at him from just the idea of what that could mean for Luz.

-

 

It’s been two days, and Joe thinks he might be losing his mind. Two days, with no sign of Luz. No whispers of a captured Mimic, no sign from the SAS that they’re holding the only known Mimic in the world, nothing at all. Joe’s body feels like it’s shutting down; he can’t sleep, he can’t eat, he has to force himself to stay put and not run around town kicking the shit out of anyone who may know where Luz could be.

Not that anyone is faring much better than him. Webster and Liebgott have taken to arguing about every possible thing they can think of, because Liebgott hates feeling useless and Webster hates that he can’t provide any actual comfort to him. Nixon and Winters are trying to stay strong and supportive for the group, but Joe can see the worry in their eyes. He’s only seen Lipton and Speirs once for a few minutes, and Joe hadn’t needed to be an Empath to feel the devastation rolling off of Lipton in waves. Joe couldn’t have stayed mad at him even if he’d wanted to.

Roe somehow always seems to be sitting in the same room as him, and Joe wonders if his Healer abilities don’t work on such strong emotions, or if they are working, and Joe’s not even feeling a fraction of the anxiety that he really has. 

Babe and Guarnere have taken to trying to get him to eat or sleep or do anything other than make himself sick with worry. Joe hasn’t touched anything they’ve given him. 

 

He’s staring at the soup that’s gone cold in front of him when Malarkey’s voice breaks through the constant, inner slideshow of all the terrible things that could be happening to Luz right now. 

“C’mon,” he says, and Joe looks up just in time to see keys being tossed near his face. Through reflexes alone he’s able to catch them.

“We’re going for a drive,” Malarkey explains, when Joe just gives him a questioning look. Malarkey has stuck around him almost as much as Roe has, and he’s sure he’s been insufferable for someone like Malarkey.

“I don’t think-“ he starts to protest, not wanting to be away from the group in case they hear anything and he needs to move, but Malarkey cuts him off.

“We’re either going for a drive, or you’re going to take a nap.”

Joe doesn’t even feel tired, it’s not that he refuses to sleep, it’s that his whole body feels like it’s on edge and couldn’t sleep even if he wanted to.

So, he stands, leaving the ignored soup behind and follows Malarkey out of the house.

“You’re driving,” Malarkey proclaims, before getting into the passenger seat.

Joe just starts the car and waits.

“Where are we going?” he asks, when Malarkey doesn’t provide him with any destination.

“We’re just going to drive around and talk. Don’t even worry about where we’re going, you just need to clear your head a little.”

He wants to argue, but he doesn’t have it in him. So, he just backs out of the driveway and heads out of the subdivision.

Neither of them say anything for a while, and Joe keeps driving, making random turns every once in a while, not having any idea where he should take them.

“You know, you and I haven’t just hung out and talked in awhile,” Malarkey says, finally, after almost ten minutes of silence.

“Yeah, well, we’ve been kind of busy.”

“I know. And then Luz came along and that changed everything.” Malarkey doesn’t sound accusatory, just like he’s stating facts. 

Joe wonders if Malarkey has been feeling the same disconnect he has. It started when Malarkey had met Buck, Joe no longer felt the strange sort of tug toward Malarkey that he’d felt since he was a teenager. But for the past few years he’d still felt compelled to be around him, just to make sure he was okay. 

The day he met Luz - even though most of his energy was spent with feeling like a fucking monster for abducting some guy - for the first time since they met, he hadn’t been compelled to watch over Malarkey. That impulse had shifted.

“Are you in love with him?” Malarkey asks simply, when Joe fails to speak.

Joe feels his stomach tighten. “I-I can’t,” is all he’s able to say.

“You can’t what?”

He takes a few deep breaths, trying to ease the knot that is forming in his chest. 

“I can’t even think about that right now, not…not when I don’t even know if he’s still alive.”

Malarkey turns back to look out the window. Joe takes another random turn.

“Do you remember the summer before our Junior year?” Malarkey asks out of nowhere after a few minutes of silence.

“You wanna narrow that down a little?” Joe asks, they have spent nearly every day together from the moment they met until just recently. They have a lot of shared memories.

“Remember when we climbed on top of my uncle’s barn?”

“I remember you almost falling off your uncle’s barn,” Joe says, his memory of the terrifying feeling of Malarkey falling coming back to him as if it were yesterday. He turns the car down a wooded pathway.

“Nah, I swear, you caught me before I even felt myself lose my balance.”

Joe rolls his eyes, they’ve had this argument before. Malarkey still maintains that Joe must have felt him falling at the very same second that Malarkey had.

“Maybe I was just so used to you falling off shit that I pulled you away from the edge, just in case,” he reasons, he doesn’t want to admit that, in that moment, he had felt as though he had been falling himself, it hadn’t even processed in his brain that Malarkey was falling before he had pulled him back to safety.

Malarkey chuckles but doesn’t offer his normal arguments. Instead he turns to look at him and says “where are we, Joe?” His voice doesn’t sound confused.

Joe focuses his attention back on the road and hits the brakes, letting the car come to a complete stop.

Off in the distance, there is a large building, surrounded by a chain-linked fence. The road they’re on leads to the only opening that he can see for the fence, and there is a guard station and a barricade set up at the opening. There are no signs that he can see for the building and he looks at their surroundings, realizing they’re encircled by trees and he wonders how he managed to get them into some kind of private property without even thinking about it.

“Luz is here, isn’t he?” Malarkey asks abruptly, and Joe startles a little at the claim.

Joe wants to argue that he doesn’t know where Luz is, but he quickly realizes he does know, he can feel it in his bones that Luz is in there, and all he wants it to break through that barricade and get him. 

With shaking hands Joe manages to pull his phone out of his pocket and take a picture of the building and quickly sends the picture to Liebgott. He doesn’t attach a message, Liebgott will know what Joe wants to know.

“We should go back,” Malarkey says suddenly, and Joe turns to look at him.

“I can’t just leave him here.”

“I know, but you and I can’t just go up there and demand they let us in and to let us take Luz. We need the others, we need a plan.”

Objectively, Joe understands what Malarkey is saying, he understands that the sooner they can get back to headquarters the sooner they can all figure out how to get Luz. But the thought of just turning around, of leaving Luz for another minute, feels impossible.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Quickly, before he can stop himself, he puts the car in reverse and drives them away from the mysterious building.

As he is driving away from Luz, his phone rings. Malarkey grabs it and puts it to speakerphone.

“What are you doing there?” Liebgott says as a greeting.

“What is it?” Malarkey asks, ignoring Liebgott’s question.

Liebgott huffs in annoyance at the dismissal of his question but responds. “It’s a research lab for a pharmaceutical company. Now, tell me why you’re there.”

“Luz is there,” Malarkey answers with confidence. Joe’s grip on the steering wheel tightens.

The phone goes quiet for long enough that Joe is afraid that they got disconnected due to all the trees, but finally they hear Liebgott.

“Shit,  _ shit _ . Okay, you guys need to get back here.”

“Yeah, we’re on our way. What is it?” Malarkey asks. 

It doesn’t escape Joe’s notice that Lieb hadn’t questioned their belief that Luz could be there.

“What would a pharmaceutical company want with Luz?” Joe demands.

Liebgott sighs. “Fuck, I’ll tell you when you guys get back here. This…I gotta get Nixon over here. You’ll want to hear it from him.”

Joe presses the gas pedal down harder.

-  
  


“Someone tell me what the fuck is going on,” Joe orders as he barges into headquarters.

Winters, Nixon and Liebgott are all standing in a line, looking like a wall to hold him off, but Joe feels like a battering ram, and he’s done with all the secrets.

“Joe, why don’t you take a breath, sit down, and we can explain,” Winters tries, his voice solid and placating.

“Or, how about you all explain what that place is, why they have Luz, and what our plan to get him out is. And we can leave the breathing and sitting up to me.” 

Winters looks like he’s about to say something else, but Nixon cuts him off.

“It’s a research lab for Nixon Pharmaceuticals.”

“Wait, what?” Malarkey asks, coming up from behind Joe to stand next to him.

Nixon scrubs a hard hand over his face, and sighs. “It’s my family’s company.”

“You knew this whole time?” Guarnere accuses, walking over to stand on Joe’s other side. Joe hadn’t even noticed Guarnere and Babe standing off to the side.

“Of course not. I’m not a part of the research department. It never even occurred to me that they’d pick him up. But…” he sighs again, “I guess it should have. Nixon Pharm…well…let’s just say we work for the SAS.”

Joe doesn’t know what to say, he looks at Winters to see if this is at all news to him. It doesn’t look like it, and Joe is realizing that this organization has been keeping a lot of secrets from its employees.

“Explain,” is all he’s able to growl out, when he looks back at Nixon.

“When I found out that the SAS contracted the company I immediately wanted out. Dick talked me out of leaving and instead, we formed this organization and I still work for Nixon Pharm to act as a mole. It’s how we get a lot of our intel,” Nixon tells the group of men who have been glaring at him for the past few minutes. 

“It’s also where you all get your paychecks from,” he informs them.

Before Joe has a chance to wrap his mind around what they’ve just learned, the exterior door opens and Webster’s voice echoes down the hall toward them.

“I’ve got it,” he exclaims, coming into view, waving a cardboard tube in his hand.

Liebgott breaks away from his side of the line and intercepts his husband, grabbing the tube that’s offered to him.

Without saying a word, Liebgott opens the tube and unrolls the paper inside, on top of the large table that is set up in the bullpen.

They all gather around the table and it takes Joe a few moments to figure out what he’s looking at.

“Why do you have the blueprints to the research facility?” Nixon asks, his eyes scanning the paper.

Liebgott scoffs. “I have blueprints to every building in this town.”

They all share some surprised looks, but choose to not question him further.

-  
  


Joe rubs his hands together, trying to warm them up as he sits in the back of the supply truck, bouncing and rattling along with the truck with every small bump it hits.

He looks over at his two companions. Speirs is double checking his equipment, going through a mental checklist as he feels around his pockets. Liebgott is looking straight ahead, no sign of what they are about to do in his eyes, his face and body are calm and collected. Joe supposes he probably looks similar, despite how he’s actually feelings, he’s always been good at keeping a straight face. 

He can tell when they’ve turned onto the path toward the woods, because the truck bounces along even more, and Joe has to hold his hands down against his seat to keep from vibrating too much. He goes through the plan in his head one more time, not that the plan is particularly brilliant, but it’s the best they could come up with in such a short amount of time. Plus, Joe can’t complain, he’s lucky he was even allowed to go. Some people in the group hadn’t thought it was a good idea for Joe to go along, despite his insistence, thinking he was too emotionally compromised.

Thankfully, Lieb stepped in to insist for him, citing their normal partnership, and how well they work together.

“Plus,” Lieb had argued, “the goal is ‘Save Luz,’ I think Toye’s the last person here who is gonna want to fuck that up.”

After only a few more minutes, the truck slows and eventually comes to a complete stop. He can’t hear any voices, but he assumes Tipper is talking to the guard at the barricade. It takes about a minute, but finally, the truck starts back up again and Joe takes a deep breath, preparing himself.

Once they can feel the truck backing up into the loading dock, the three of them move into position, Joe and Liebgott behind the supply shelves on either side of the truck, and Speirs up toward the truck’s back door.

Joe counts to ten and the back of the truck slides open, Tipper’s face coming into view.

Speirs is just about to move from his position when the sound of the door into the loading dock opens and a man rushes in that Joe can’t see from his position.

“No, I’m sorry, we don’t have a shipment set up for today.”

“Yeah, that’s what your guard said too, but I’ve got the order receipt with me and it has today’s date on it,” Tipper lies easily, walking slowly away from the back of the truck, leading the man toward the front.

Speirs holds up a hand for a moment, waiting for Tipper and the other man to get closer to the front of the truck, before motioning for Joe and Lieb to move.

“Look, right here, December 16 th, ” Joe hears Tipper say. He only sees a slight blur of the two men, looking down at a clipboard, before he pushes his way through the door the man had entered from.

Joe looks down the long, gray hallway. The fluorescent lights and linoleum flooring reminds him of every other building Lieb and he have ever broken into. The bleak familiarity relaxes him a little.

Lieb leads them down the long hallway, and Joe can’t help but look up at the ceiling for cameras, despite Liebgott’s assurance that there would be no camera’s in the hallways. 

“It’s a research lab, not a top-secret government facility,” Liebgott had reminded him.

 

They turn the corner and make their way through double doors, looking around for any sign of life. They walk along the new hallway for a few moments, passing by offices and small labs. They’re just about to turn another corner when Joe hears the sound of footsteps. He grabs Lieb just in time, pulling him and Speirs into the closest lab. The footsteps are soon accompanied by voices, and the three men move from the doorway just as two women walk past, talking animatedly.

They wait just long enough for the voices to fade before Liebgott leads them out and checks around the corner before they follow. Joe tries to follow Liebgott’s directions in his head, picturing the blueprint they had studied. He thinks, if it came down to it, he’d be able to get them out, but having only had about an hour to look at the floorplans he’s glad that Lieb is leading.

They turn another corner, and another pair of double doors is in their way. Lieb is about to push on them when Joe stops him, noticing the card swipe on the wall, a red light indicating the doors are locked.

“Shit, these must be new. There was nothing in the intel that said they had key cards,” Liebgott says, irritated by the half-assed information he sometimes receives from his contacts.

Before either of them can come up with a plan to get around it, Speirs walks over to the wall and swipes a card through it. The red-light changes to green and a buzzing sound emanates from the doors for a moment.

“Where the hell did you get a key card?” Liebgott asks, pushing the doors open.

Speirs shrugs. “It was on the desk in the lab.”

Joe rolls his eyes, but he’s pretty thankful for the man’s penchant toward kleptomania this time around.

Liebgott leads them down another corridor, they pass a more advance looking laboratory, with computers and equipment set up, but most of the doors they pass are closed. 

They pass through one more door, that requires the key card again, before Liebgott stops and looks down the hall. There are twelve doors lining the walls, six on either side, with panels over where a window might be.

“This is my closest estimation of holding cells that they have. He’ll probably be in one of them.”

Speirs doesn’t waste any time before sliding open the window panel on the door closest to them. When he looks inside he lets out a small gasp.

Joe pushes him out of the way to see the it’s not Luz, but someone else laying on a small cot, their arms and legs bound. He feels sick.

Liebgott opens the panel of the next door, and inside is a girl in the same position.

“What the fuck is this?” he asks, looking over at them with wide eyes.

“They’re Empaths,” Joe explains, he isn’t entirely sure why or how he knows, but he does know, and he feels almost weak with the thought of it.

Speirs and Liebgott continue to open the panels of each door’s windows, looking inside to see each room occupied with another captive. Toye feels weighed down, staring down the hallway at twelve rooms of people being held because they have abilities.

“Toye,” Speirs snaps, knocking him out of his frozen state. “We need to find Luz.”

He shakes himself out of his stupor and nods, walking further down the hall to the last door, knowing it’ll be the right one. Looking through the window he sees Luz there, same as all the others.

Joe falls to his knees, quickly getting to work on breaking the lock. His hands are steady despite the slamming of his heart against his chest. He scrambles back to his feet as soon as he hears the lock click and he pushes through the door. 

Luz’s eyes are open, but he doesn’t seem to even notice Joe is there, he’s unresponsive when Joe waves a hand in front of his face.

“We have to go, now,” Speirs says as soon as Joe has lifted Luz into his arms.

“What about them?” Joe asks, stopping once they’re back in the hallway, to look around at all the other people who have been subjected to the same thing as Luz.

Speirs just shakes his head. “There’s nothing we can do. We have to go.”

Joe can’t move though. “If we leave them here they’ll kill them. As soon as they realize we’ve been here. They’ll kill them so there’s no evidence.”

Speirs seems to already know this, his jaw is tight but his face is calm. “They’re dead either way. So, we can either save Luz, and they kill them, or we leave Luz to die with them.”

Joe just glares at Speirs until Liebgott speaks up.

“We have to go, right now.”

Joe steels himself, trying not to think about how he’s leaving eleven people to their deaths.

Their trek back is just as uneventful as their way in, other than the dead weight of Luz in his arms. As they make their way down the hall toward the loading dock, they pass an open office. They all move past the office as quickly and quietly as possible, and Joe notes the familiar voice of the man who had been arguing with Tipper about the wrong supply date.

The last stretch of hallway feels even longer than before and he hoists Luz into his arms a little more securely, attempting to move faster. 

Liebgott had estimated about fifteen minutes would be the most time they could take without being caught, and they are nearing th e fifteen-minute mark. 

Speirs opens the door to the loading dock, looking around to make sure it’s clear, and motions them to come through.

Liebgott helps Joe set Luz down inside the truck, and Joe wraps his arms around him securely, feeling Luz’s fingers curl weakly into his coat. Speirs lowers the back door, and as soon as he latches it the truck lurches forward.

Joe’s heart is racing and he swallows to keep the bile from rising. He hates himself for not doing more for those people. He hates himself for what they’re driving away from. He holds onto Luz a little bit tighter than necessary, and he hates himself when all he can think about is that it feels worth it. 

  
  
  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

 

George stares at his hands, his fingerprints. He studies how the lines curve then swoop back down, spiraling around and around, disappearing at the edge of his fingers.

These lines are his. Nobody else in the world has lines on their fingers that curve exactly the same way as his do. This is how he knows who he is.

This is how he knows he’s George Luz.

He lays in bed and studies his fingerprints. He doesn’t know what else to do. His whole body feels like he’s been submerged in water, every movement coming out heavy and slow. 

Two to three times a day, Roe comes in, checks his vitals and asks him questions. The questions are things like “do you know where you are?” and “can you tell me your full name?” The first couple of times he’d gone through the list of questions, Luz hadn’t answered, not because he didn’t know them, he’d just been so tired, he didn’t have it in him to reply. Now, he answers them, just so he doesn’t have to see the worried looks on Doc and Joe’s faces. He sees their worried looks enough as is, like the first time Roe had been in to check on him and he had shone a light in his eye, Luz had reacted poorly to that, and Joe had made Roe stop.

 

Roe asks him questions, and Luz responds from his laying position, staring at his fingerprints, trying to remind himself of who he is. 

He’s not all those people he had been forced to mimic. He’s not those poor Empaths that had been there longer than him. He wonders at one point if they’re all okay, if any of them have been hurt, but the realization that they are not at all okay, regardless, makes him hurt, so he tries to tamp those thoughts down.

His sense of time is all off. He stays in his room mostly, too tired to do more than get up and walk around a few times a day. The best way of telling time he has are Roe’s visits. Roe comes once in the morning and once at night, occasionally once in the afternoon. But they have begun to blur together that he can’t be sure what day it is.

He could ask Joe. Joe, who has barely left his room since he brought Luz back. He hasn’t said much, hasn’t tried to ask Luz what happened to him, which Luz is grateful for, he’s not even sure he can put it into words. Joe’s constant presence helps, there’s a calming effect that he has on Luz, making him feel safe. He wonders, not for the first time, if Joe actually has some Healer abilities.

 

“Can I talk to him?” 

Lipton’s soft voice startles him out of his thoughts and his examination of his fingerprints. He turns to look at Lipton and Joe standing in the doorway, both shooting him anxious looks.

Luz pulls himself up to a sitting position as Lipton walks into the room past Joe.

“Can you give us a few minutes?” Lipton asks Joe, looking back at him.

Joe sends Luz a questioning gaze and Luz nods in response.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything,” Joe tells him. 

Luz can see the wear these past few days have had on Joe for the first time. He wonders when the last time was that he had a good night sleep. A pang of guilt washes through him at the realization of everything Joe has done for him.

Lipton waits for the door to close behind Joe before he turns to look at Luz again. 

“How are you?”

Luz shrugs. Lipton can feel how he’s doing.

“Right, sorry. I-Luz I…I’m  _ sorry _ . I never meant for this to…for you to be so hurt by what we were doing. I never wanted you to feel like you didn’t belong or…or that nobody cared about you, or that running away from us was your best option,” Lipton rushes to say, tripping over his words as though they’ve been building up for these past few days and now they’re just spilling out.

Luz doesn’t have time to respond before Lipton is speaking again.

“Because you _ are _ my friend, George, you’re probably the best friend I’ve ever had, and I’m so sorry that I ruined that, that I betrayed your trust,” Lipton continues, looking down at his feet. “I understand that you may feel uneasy toward the group after everything, but please know that not everyone was involved in our planning. Roe and Malarkey had no idea, Guarnere and Babe weren’t told, and Toye, he was furious when he found out what we’d done. Nothing between you and him was part of some plan, or anything less than real.  He cares about you, we all do. I-I’m just glad you’re safe again, George.”

Lipton takes a deep breath and nods, turning toward the door.

“There were Empaths,” Luz says, stopping Lipton in his tracks.

Lipton sighs and looks at him. “I know.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

“We’ve been working on it, we...we’re doing what we can.”

Luz nods, he knows what that means. His stomach can’t sink any lower than it already has, but the thought brings about a fresh wave of guilt to settle in his chest.

Lipton watches him for another moment before turning again.

“I didn’t run away,” Luz pipes up before Lipton reaches the door.

He turns back to look a Luz, confused.

“I-when I left, I wasn’t running away. I just…I just needed to get out, take a walk, think without someone right next to me, influencing my emotions and thoughts. I had planned to come back,” he explains.

Lipton looks at him for a long moment before nodding.

“Merry Christmas Eve, Luz,” he says, before leaving the room.

Luz scrubs a hand over his face and looks out the window. At least now he knows what day it is. 

-  
  


The soft lights on the Christmas tree blur as Luz’s eyes go in and out of focus.  He’d opted to join them for Christmas, as he knew Joe would have stayed with him otherwise. Christmas had been a small, almost morose affair. Only Joe, Guarnere and Luz remained at the house, Babe and McClung had gone home to celebrate with their families. Dick and Nix had stopped by in the morning, and Lipton had come over for a short time in the afternoon. Liebgott and Web came over for dinner, but didn’t stay long after.

Luz apologized for not having presents for anyone, everyone assured him that it wasn’t necessary. The reason of why he had no gifts to give had hung in the air awkwardly.

For Luz, this Christmas is probably more festive than any he’s had for the past decade, but he knows this isn’t the case for the rest of them. He feels like he’s drained everyone else of their light and happiness, but he doesn’t know what he can do to fix it, he’s not sure he has the energy to do anything even if he did know.

He looks over at Joe, who’s sitting on the other side of the couch, talking with Bill. Their voices are softer and more subdued than he’s used to seeing from the two men. He’s not sure what they’re saying, it’s like trying to tune an old radio, his head is too filled up with his own thoughts he can’t fully take in anything else. 

It’s not even eleven when Guarnere decides to turn in, but Luz and Joe follow his lead. Joe reaches out a hand for Luz to take, so he can pull him from the corner of the couch Luz has dug himself into.

Once back in Luz’s room it takes him a moment to notice that Joe hasn’t followed him inside, instead standing awkwardly in the doorway. Luz realizes he’s already grown used to the idea that Joe would stay with him. He knows he should stop being selfish and let Joe get some actual sleep for a change, but he’s been burdened by Lipton’s words from the night before and he needs to talk to Joe. He needs to be selfish for just one more night.

“Can I talk to you?” Luz asks, sitting down on the bed.

Joe nods and finally steps into the room, closing the door behind him.

“Right, so…” Luz starts, trailing off as he tries to find the words that he’s been thinking about all day.

Joe just looks at him expectantly, but doesn’t speak.

“You know, Lip…he told me that you didn’t know about their plan, that you…that you weren’t trying to trick me,” Luz stutters out, scratching at the bed spread, watching his hands intently.

“Yeah?” Is all Joe supplies.

Luz looks up at him, his face, as usual, is unreadable. But he thinks he has a good idea of what Joe is thinking about.

“I’m sorry I assumed, that I didn’t stop to ask you first. It’s just…Nixon said…I was just emotional about everything I had heard and wasn’t thinking clearly.” He hates how carefully he feels like he has to tread, everything feels raw, like an open sore he’s afraid of touching for fear of the burn in his skin.

“What did Nixon say?” Joe asks, moving to sit next to Luz on the bed.

“Does it matter now?” 

Joe shrugs, “I guess not, but it might help me know what you’re thinking.”

Luz shakes his head and sighs. “Honestly, I don’t really know what to think any more. I know…I know that you guys aren’t going to hurt me, that however much we disagree I’m more on your side than with the others.” 

He stops to shudder, remembering hands and then leather straps that held him down. Needles in his veins, tubes shoved down his throat. Lights that flashed without any kind of pattern, some that shone too bright for too long. 

He feels a weight against his hand, bringing him back to his present, he looks down at Joe’s hand covering his own. 

His breath comes out shaking, but he continues. “I don’t want Mimics to be thought of just in terms of the crimes that we’ve committed, even if it is for the greater good. But…” he sighs again. “But I’d hate myself even more if I knew there was something I could do to stop them from hurting any more people and didn’t do anything. So…so, I guess I won’t get to be the Mimic to break the cycle, but maybe I can pave the way for any others, if there ever are any more of us.”

“I’m sorry,” Joe says, quietly. 

Luz shrugs, apparently neither of them have a better solution for this situation.

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Luz, still unsure of how to articulate anything he’s feeling, anything he’s thinking. Everything feels too real and yet not at all real, everything he sees is both too bright and yet too hazy. He feels like his nerves are exposed and one wrong move will tear them. After a minute or two he realizes there is one grounding force, one thing that feels real and warm, not dangerous or unnatural. 

It’s Joe’s hand, resting on his, keeping him slightly more grounded than he’s felt all week. The slight weight of it feels comforting and safe. He takes another shaky breath and looks over at Joe.

Joe looks back at him and his usually unreadable face is saying so much now. Luz can see sadness, and anger, and confusion, and worry all swirling within Joe’s deep, dark eyes. He wishes he could assure Joe that he’s fine, that he shouldn’t worry, but Joe would know it’s not true and he’d worry regardless. He’s a protector, worrying about other people comes with the territory. 

Joe looks over at the closed door for a moment, then looks back at Luz, his eyebrows drawn in, the weight of his hand still heavy and grounding against Luz’s.

“I-“ Joe starts to speak, shakes his head then leans in. He cups the back of Luz’s head lightly at the same moment their lips meet. It’s a light kiss, barely more than the small brush of skin they shared over a week ago, but it ignites something in Luz’s chest, a warmth spreading slow and thick through his veins. 

Joe pulls back before Luz has any time to react, but he keeps his hand touching the back of Luz’s neck, his other still covering his hand. 

“Was that okay?” His voice is soft and low, his eyes searching and almost innocent looking. 

Luz nods, but doesn’t wait for Joe before he leans into him, capturing his lips with more energy than he thought he had in him.

Joe brings his other hand up to hold both sides of Luz’s face, angling it so that he can deepen the kiss. Luz’s heart is beating quick and hard and he thinks it might just jump right through his chest. This is the first time in days that he’s felt real, and tangible and  _ present _ . He wraps his arms around Joe to try to pull him closer, even though there is no more room between them already. 

He keeps pulling and pushing until Joe has to let go of him in order to catch his fall when Luz overcorrects his pushing and pulls Joe down on top of him. 

Joe lands with a small “oof” vibrating against his lips. He moves back some, as much as Luz’s restricting arms will let him. His breath is hard and warm against Luz’s cheek and he chuckles a little breathlessly when Luz just moves to kiss his cheek, his jaw, his neck. 

“You never pace yourself,” Joe jokes, but Luz can feel his breath hitch slightly when Luz leaves a slight sucking kiss under his jaw. Joe’s hands move to Luz’s sides, trailing to his hips, his grip tight, and it’s Luz’s breath that hitches now.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he asks, when the question finally pierces his reality that has just been Joe, and Joe’s lips, and Joe’s hands, and Joe’s skin, for the last few minutes. 

Before Joe can respond, Luz lightly drags his teeth against that same spot and he feels Joe shudder a little above him, his fingers flexing against his hips. He can’t help but snicker a little at the reaction.

Joe moves so Luz can see the small glint in his dark eyes before he bends down to nip at Luz’s lips. He yelps a little, more from the surprise than from the pain, and Joe’s chuckle reverberates against his skin.

Joe grins and leaves a small kiss against his fake pout and Luz can’t help but grin back in response.

He is about to reach up and continue what they had started, but he’s caught by Joe gazing down at him. The look in Joe’s eyes isn’t particularly heated or dark like he expects. Instead his eyes look almost soft, and somehow that makes Luz’s skin feel even warmer and more tingly than it already had been. Luz doesn’t really know what to say or do with the look that Joe is giving him, so they just lay there looking at each other. After a moment, he feels one of Joe’s hands release his hip and reach up to brush his thumb along Luz’s cheek. He closes his eyes for a moment against the feel against his cheekbone and his breath is trembling again.

When he opens his eyes he realizes what the look is that Joe has in his. It just looks so different on him than it has on anyone else, and Luz wonders if it’s because of his personal feelings toward Joe, or if Joe’s eyes really are just so much more expressive than any guy he’s ever slept with. Joe is looking in his eyes like he is looking at something beautiful and perfect. The way the other guys have looked at his eyes and seen something, seen  _ someone _ that they loved. Luz wonders whose eyes Joe is seeing.

The thought passes through his mind quickly, naturally, without his permission. His previously overheated skin suddenly turns cold and his chest constricts. 

It’s never felt good to wonder who someone wishes he was, but now, with Joe, the idea that he wishes Luz could be someone else is a little more than he can stand. 

His breathing is coming out faster and he feels like he’s not actually getting air into his lungs. He’s surrounded and he can’t breathe.

He pushes against Joe, who looks at him for a moment before finally moving back, allowing Luz to sit up.

He tries to breathe deeper, take in more air, but he can’t. He’s shaking and he can’t breathe.

“Luz?” He can hear Joe’s worried voice behind him, but he can’t get enough air to tell him what’s wrong.

He can’t tell him that he’s dying. That he can’t breathe and everything is caving in around him, and he’s  _ dying _ .

His vision has narrowed to a pinpoint, and there’s a slight ache against his thigh where he’s drumming his fist against it. He knows he’s doing it, but he can’t stop. He can’t stop his hands from moving, he can’t breathe. 

He is going to die in this room, where he’s safe. After surviving that laboratory, this is where he’s going to die. Because he’s forgotten how to breathe.

Suddenly, he feels a familiar pressure against his hand. The drumming has stopped. He looks down and sees Joe’s hand resting lightly on his own. Luz quickly grabs Joe’s hand, gripping him tight so he knows not to let go.

“I’m right here, George, I’m here.” He hears Joe’s voice behind him, and Luz holds his hand even tighter.

Joe is here, Joe will keep him safe. 

“Focus on my voice, George. Breathe in,” Luz takes a deep breath in and holds it, “and breathe out,” Luz exhales.

“Good, that’s really good. Breathe in,” Luz breathes in again. “Breathe out,” Luz exhales.

Luz continues to follow Joe’s instructions while holding tight to his hand, like it’s an anchor keeping him from falling back into the cave in that had been surrounding him.

After a few more minutes, his breathing is back to normal, and the feeling of dread and the fear of death have passed. His whole body is shaking though and he feels Joe pull him into his arms. 

It isn’t until he hears Joe’s reassuring tone and words as he runs his hands through his hair that Luz realizes he’s crying into Joe’s neck. 

He hates all of this, hates how little control he has over his life, hates how he’s let people treat him all of these years, hates how he has lived his life up until this point.

“It’s okay, you’re okay, I’m right here,” is the mantra Joe speaks into his hair as Luz grips him tighter, shaking and crying in his arms like a child. So disappointed with the world around him, and his place in it.

He hates being nothing more than his genetic makeup. He hates being a good for nothing Mimic.

He hates being George Luz.

-  
  


His eyes feel sore and heavy as they blink open. From the light that’s spilling into the room past the blinds in the window, he can tell it’s late morning. He credits the fact that he seemed to have slept through the morning to the exhaustion caused from the panic attack the night before, as well as the comfortable weight he feels against his back and over his middle. 

The arm around him is heavy, but not restricting, and Luz is able to slowly turn himself. Joe’s sleeping face is lax and serene, so unlike the tight way he tends to like to hold it most days.  

Luz wants to run his thumb across Joe’s forehead, his cheekbones, down his nose and along his lips. But he knows that Joe has probably slept less than him in the past week and a half and after last night he doesn’t really know what to say.

 

He hadn’t had the words last night to explain to Joe why he’d started to panic, seemingly out of nowhere, and Joe hadn’t asked. He’d just held Luz, murmuring reassuring words into his hair until Joe had suggested Luz try to sleep. It had taken no time at all for Luz to fall asleep, and it seems like Joe had fallen just as quickly.

Maneuvering out from underneath Joe’s arm without waking him is tricky. Luz slides himself further down the bed as much as he can and rolls himself off the bed so that he lands a little awkwardly on his feet. He glances back at Joe, but he doesn’t seem to have been affected by Luz’s movements at all.

 

Luz takes a shower, attempting to wash away the itchy feeling on his skin. He lets the warm water soothe him a little bit longer than necessary, trying to mentally prepare himself for what he has to do.

He knows he has to talk to everyone today, he can’t keep lying in bed all day, thinking about that place. He can’t keep thinking about all the things he’s always hated about himself, all the things he still worries about himself. He knows he can’t just stop being a Mimic. It may mean his life will never be the way he wants it to be, but he has an ability and an obligation to use that ability in the best way he knows how. Because he knows what is at stake here, he’s seen it with his own eyes. He’s seen people just like him held captive and experimented on for god knows what purpose. He knows the kinds of things they’re willing to put people through.

As he walks back into his room he sees Joe waking up, looking confused for a moment, before his eyes land on Luz in the doorway.

“Hey,” Luz says, when anything more coherent escapes his mind.

“Hey,” Joe replies, his voice gravelly from sleep.

“Uh, so, no rush or anything, but I was thinking we could go over to HQ today? Do you think anyone will be there?” 

Joe sits up fully now, wiping a hand across his face to wake himself up more.

“You want to go to HQ today? Are you sure?”

Luz nods, ignoring the penetrating stare Joe is shooting at him.

Joe sighs and rubs at his face again. “Okay, just let me get ready and I’ll call Winters and Lip, see where they’re at.”

-  
  


It only takes about an hour for everyone to meet Luz and Joe at headquarters. Winters, Nixon, Lipton and Speirs all look slightly wary as they stand opposite of Luz and Joe.

“I’m in,” Luz says simply.

He feels Joe shift beside him but he doesn’t look over, instead watching the raised eyebrows of all four men across from him.

“Luz, we can find another way, you don’t-“ Lipton starts, but Luz cuts him off.

“No you can’t. You need me, and this needs to happen. So, here we are.”

“Okay, okay well, then we should get to planning as soon as possible,” Winters says slowly, like he’s afraid Luz will be easily spooked away again.

“I just have one request before I do this,” Luz says.

“Of course.”

“You all need to keep me informed on everything that is at all relevant to me or anyone else here. If I’m risking my life for this group, then I need to really be a part of it. And that means no secrets.”

Winters nods. “You’re right, we’ve not been completely honest with the entire staff, and we don’t want that, we want there to be complete transparency, we all work together on this.”

“Okay, so, then I guess my first concern is…the place I was at,” he pauses when he notices everyone in the room intake a quick breath. “The place had a lot of things that had the Nixon brand on it.”

Nixon coughs and speaks up. “Yeah, that’s my family’s company. I explained it to the rest of the guys when we realized where you were, but the only reason I still work there is so that any information about the SAS that comes through I can relay back here. Luz, I never would have…I had no idea they took you there until Joe and Malarkey figured it out.”

Luz looks around at the other faces, of Lipton, Speirs and Winters and he can’t see anything in any of their expressions that make it seem like Nixon is not giving him the whole truth. Lastly, he turns to Joe, to get his opinion. They lock eyes for a moment before Joe nods.

“Fine. I believe you. In the interest of fairness, I guess I should tell you what I know. I had a few SAS guys interview me. I didn’t tell them anything.”

“Luz, it’s okay if you did, you were under duress and after what we –“ Lipton tries to speak up to let him off the hook again, but Luz just interrupts again.

“I didn’t tell them anything,” he insists. “But they do know about you,” he motions toward Winters, who just nods, unsurprised. 

“And they know there is an Empath named Lipton, but they didn’t know who you were,”   
Luz says, looking at Lip now. “They also knew that there was a Healer here, but they didn’t seem to know who he was either.”

Luz looks over at Joe now. “They didn’t mention anything about Malarkey, I’m going to guess that means they don’t know about him.”

Joe just nods, but Luz is sure he can see something close to relief in his eyes.

“They didn’t mention anything about Liebgott or Speirs or anyone else here, I don’t know if that means they don’t know anything or they just didn’t ask me about them because they don’t have abilities. Either way, it does seem like they know about us.”

“We knew we couldn’t stay under their radar for long,” Winters assures him. 

After a few moments of silence Nixon clears his throat and speaks up.

“Right, well, I guess that means we better get to work on this,” he says, making his way back behind Winters’ desk to look through a file folder there. “First things first, we need to figure out if you can accurately mimic someone who you’ve only seen in photographs.”

“I can,” Luz confirms, before Nixon can keep talking.

That stops Nixon from looking through the file and he glances up at Luz in question. “I thought you didn’t know.”

“I do now,” he says simply.

The makes something click in Nixon’s head. “Oh,” is all he says.

Everyone in the room is sharing the same look of sympathy and it’s making Luz feel like his skin is buzzing. He moves to step back, but then feels the weight of Joe’s hand on his shoulder and the warmth and strength from it seems to almost radiate down his body.

“Right, well,” Nixon starts up again, awkwardly. “Uh…and the fingerprint?”

Luz nods and he feels Joe’s hand squeeze his shoulder just a little bit harder.

“Here, give me your phone,” Luz says before anyone can start giving him more pitying looks.

Nixon quirks an eyebrow but digs into his pocket as he walks over to where Luz and Joe are standing.

Luz takes the offered phone and looks down at his hand, concentrating on Nixon. He watches as the lines in his thumb shift like waves, swirling out to the edge. Placing his thumb on the phone it unlocks easily.

Luz shrugs as he hands the phone back to Nixon. “I know this isn’t exactly high tech stuff like what they’ll actually have, but it’s the best I can do to convince you that I know I can do it without knowing what someone’s fingerprints look like.”

The sympathetic and pitying faces are gone now, and have been replaced with surprise and awe. 

“Okay,” Winters is the first to break the silence. “I’ll call Liebgott and Malarkey, I think they should be here for this. Let’s get to work.”

Luz excuses himself to the bathroom while they wait for the others to show up. 

Looking in the mirror, he studies his eyes, his nose, his mouth, his ears, making sure that every part is his, that he is only looking at himself. Taking a few deep breaths, he looks down at his thumb, studying the lines again. He knows these lines, he knows they’re his, he knows that they are the fingerprints of George Luz.

 

For now, he knows who he is.

  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10

_ It’s very simple. _

That’s the phrase George has been hearing for the past three days. 

“The plan is  _ very simple _ .”

“It’s all  _ very simple. _ ”

“And that’s all you gotta do,  _ simple, _ right?”

 

In theory, the plan does seem pretty simple, but in reality, he thinks he might just throw up right on the spot. His hands won’t stop sweating, and even Malarkey’s breathing exercises aren’t calming him down.

He wipes his hands off on his pants again, thankful that he’s not in his own clothes right now. He’s never been much of a business suit kind of guy. Though he’d never expected Nixon to be one either, and he’s in a similar attire to Luz. Thankfully, they decided to forego the jacket and tie, opting only for the white, button down shirt and black slacks. On Luz it had looked awkward, both due to sizing issues and because he can’t pull off business casual. On Henry Jones, the SAS worker he is Mimicking, it doesn’t look much better. 

The man is tall and thin and there is an awkwardness in his movements, clearly still trying to find his footing and prove himself in the governmental agency. Luz had been able to pick up on Jones and his mannerisms quickly, with the help of Nixon.

Now, it’s just a matter of convincing anyone they may run into that he’s Jones, as well as getting past the security system, getting into Jones’ computer, finding the files on the people with abilities that Jones will – according to Nixon – have on his computer, and get out, without anyone noticing.

_ Simple _ . Right.

 

Pulling up into a parking space in front of the SAS building causes his heart to go from the quick pit-pattering it had been doing, to a hard thump inside his chest. It feels like his heart is trying to escape his body by any means necessary, even if it has to throw itself against the walls of Luz’s ribcage. 

“You ready for this?” Nixon says, turning to look at Luz from the driver’s seat.

“Honestly?” Luz manages to choke out.

Nixon laughs, that arrogant smirk that Luz has come to know – though hasn’t seen in these last few days much – spreads across his face.

“It’s going to be fine, Luz. You have everything you need, you know what you need to do. You’re ready. I’m gonna be with you the whole time.”

Luz nods, knowing there’s really nothing else he can do to make himself feel more comfortable with breaking into a government building and stealing confidential files. He just has to do it now.

Nixon looks at him for another moment before sending out a text, to make sure everyone is in position.

Speirs, Liebgott and Malarkey are about a block away, monitoring the guard station’s surveillance and phones. Guarnere is posted at the front of the building, McClung is at the side exit, and Joe is in the back, just in case they have to alter their course for some reason.

When they receive the go ahead from everyone, Nixon nods and puts his phone back into his pocket. He brings his hands together for a moment and it takes Luz a second to realize that he’s removing his wedding ring. He carefully places it into a pocket inside the center console. 

For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to Luz until just this moment that Nixon’s marriage must be a complete secret for him to remain undercover the way he is. The SAS agents that had interrogated Luz had known about Winters, but not about Nixon. This all probably means that Nixon’s family doesn’t even know he’s married. Luz frowns as that thought runs through his head, making him realize that he doesn’t actually know Lewis Nixon at all.

The thought distracts him enough from his state of dread that he follows Nixon out of the car without much of a struggle. As soon as they make their way toward the front door though, his stomach feels like it’s dropping, as though it wants to hold his feet from moving by weighing him down.

There is a man a little ways off from the front entrance, turned away and talking on his phone. As they get closer, the man turns enough that Luz can tell that it is Guarnere, none of them make eye contact with each other, and Luz follows Nixon through the front door.

The lobby is less impressive than he had thought it would be. For some reason he had been envisioning a large room with high ceilings and marble floors, maybe even a fountain or something. Instead, they walk into a nice, averaged sized room, the walls are a clean, white and it is well lit, but there is nothing particularly remarkable about it. 

There is a guard station off to the side, the guard sitting there with a sour look on his face. According to Nixon, that’s how Herbert Sobel always looks.

“Sobel,” Nixon greets the man as he grabs the visitor’s log to sign in.

“Mr. Nixon,” Sobel returns, not hiding his disdain.

Nixon just grins and sets the log back down, waiting for his visitor’s pass. 

Sobel is just about to set the pass down on the counter when he turns to look straight at Luz.

“I thought you were on vacation until after the new year.”

Luz nods, keeping his movements stiff and jerky. 

“I-“ he chokes on his words for a moment, taking a subtle breath he starts over.

“I was, but I came back a few days early, I had too much work to do, I couldn’t relax,” he says in a lame attempt at a joke. “Plus, this was the only time Mr. Nixon could fit a visit with me into his schedule.”

Sobel sets the pass down, finally, as he looks between the two men, his eyes narrowing as he focuses his gaze back on Luz. 

“Since when do you do anything with the research teams?” Sobel asks, and Luz thinks he might just pass out.

“Since when do executives tell the security guard about the work they’re doing?” Nixon counters in his most condescending voice, and Luz would almost feel bad for Sobel if it didn’t give them the desired effect. 

Sobel just huffs and sits back in his chair, looking almost petulant. His eyes scan over Luz again, and a knot in his stomach tightens.

“See ya later, Herb!” Nixon says, tapping his knuckles on the counter twice before stepping away toward the elevators.

Luz doesn’t say a word, just falls in step with Nixon. The elevator opens as soon as he hits the up button and the two step inside.

He waits until the doors have closed completely before speaking.

“He knows something. Or at least he’s suspicious.” 

“Luz, you did fine, Sobel is suspicious of everyone. He’s just bitter because he’s a security guard for the building when he wants to be out there tracking down people with abilities,” Nixon sneers, and Luz doesn’t need to be an Empath to know that there is some bad history between the two men, or at the very least some differing opinions on things.

Luz ignores all that for a moment for the more pressing issue.

“This felt…I don’t think it was some kind of generic suspicious,” Luz starts, but doesn’t continue as the elevators open onto the fourth floor. 

Luckily, the floor is not particularly busy, with it being the holidays, those who could take off did. Luz receives a few nods as he walks past, but it doesn’t seem like anyone is expecting him to stop by and talk about the holidays together.

They walk past the cubicles and offices and down a small hallway until they reach glass doors, leading to the executive side of the floor.

One of the handles of the doors is outfitted with a thick, black box, that looks to have a touchscreen on the surface. 

They share a look, both taking a deep breath, before Luz wipes his hand off on his pants one more time and puts his hand around the handle, resting his thumb directly onto the glossy surface at the top. 

A scanning sound comes from the black box. It feels like minutes go by, though in reality, just a moment later the box beeps twice and the sound of the lock on the door clicks out of place. Luz lets out a breath of relief and looks back at Nixon.

Nixon just nods and pushes him forwards as they walk into the executive wing.

This side of the office does look a little more like what he had pictured in his mind. The offices are spread farther apart and the hallway leads to a large sitting area, with a large, dark wooden desk sitting in the middle.

The woman at the desk looks up as they approach and smiles at Luz.

“Ah, Henry, I knew you’d be coming in before your vacation ended,” she teases.

Luz’s smile back is forced, but he hopes it just comes off as Jones’ regular stiffness.

“You know me well, Cathy. I won’t be in long, I just needed some input from Mr. Nixon on something. You remember Lewis Nixon?” Luz gestures over to Nixon who looks completely at ease as he grins at the executive assistant. Luz wishes he could feel the same sort of confidence, even if it is fake.

Cathy looks at Nixon and smiles politely. “I do, it’s nice to see you again, Mr. Nixon.”

There is a buzzing that has been under Luz’s skin since the moment he exited the car. Now that they’re so close to the office, and getting this done, he feels like his whole body must look like it is vibrating from just the sheer intensity of it. He can hardly stand still as they all exchange pleasantries, as though this is just a normal day.

Realizing that he doesn’t actually have to wait for Nixon to finish talking to Cathy about the holidays and the weather, he can just go to his office, Luz takes his nervous energy down to the third door on the right.

Jones’ office is the third door on the right. That’s what Liebgott had said, had made him repeat over and over again, the third door on the right. Now that he’s confronted with the rooms, Luz wonders if he misremembered. Maybe it’s actually the second door on the right. He looks around at the office doors, there are no names on them to give him a hint. 

He’s in a full blown panic now as his brain supplies him with all the different option.  _ No, he definitely said the first door on the right, no, maybe it was the second door on the left, no, it’s definitely the fifth door on the right _ . 

There is no fifth door on the right, and Luz must be visibly sweating by now. 

Luz thinks back to their planning, when Liebgott sat across from him and made him repeat the words “three” and “right” until the words had been meaningless to him. At the time he’d thought the over preparation was too much, he gets it now.

He’s still not entirely convinced that he’s remembered the right words, but since it had been the first option to run through his head, he goes with his gut.

The door handles have a smaller version of the thumb print scan that the wing doors had, and Luz grips the handle tight, placing his thumb on the touchscreen.

This time it seems to take even longer, he can feel eyes on him, and his brain feels like it’s pulsing along with his heartbeat.

The moment between the scanning noise going off and the click of the door unlocking feels like an eternity. 

He stays mindful to not show any kind of relief at a door unlocking even though he is screaming with joy on the inside.

 “Alright, Mr. Nixon, this should only take a few minutes and then you can get back to your early New Year’s celebrations,” Luz says, looking back over to where Nixon and Cathy are still talking.

Nixon looks at him and nods, then back to Cathy. “Well, I guess I better get to work. It was nice seeing you again,” he says, and makes his way over to Luz.

Once they’re inside, Luz leans against the door. “I think I’m gonna throw up,” he admits, quietly.

“Just a few more minutes to go, Luz. You’re doing good.”

Luz just takes another breath and can’t make himself move away from the door that is holding him up. “I don’t think I can do this,” he admits, his whole body feels like it’s filled up with sand. He doesn’t understand how Joe and Liebgott and Speirs can do this type of thing all the time, he’s already sure he’s going to go prematurely gray just from the stress of this alone.

“You’re already doing it,” Nixon says, grabbing Luz’s arm, pulling him away from the door, leading him further into the office, and pushing him down onto Jones’ chair. “You got through the difficult part, now all you have to do is copy some files, and then we’re done.”

He knows that Nixon is right, people are unpredictable, at least he knows what he’s doing when it comes to computers. With sweaty, shaky hands, he takes the external hard drive and the paper that Malarkey had given him with Jones’ passwords out of his pocket.

The first snag comes when he gets an ‘incorrect password’ error on the login page. 

His heart sinks and he enters the password again, exactly as Malarkey wrote out, slowly and deliberately.

The ‘incorrect password’ message pops up again. 

“Shit!” he exclaims, looking over at Nixon, who is already pulling out his phone.

“What’s wrong?” Malarkey’s voice comes out through the speakerphone.

“This password you gave me for his login is wrong,” Luz explains.

“What? No…I mean, I  _ guess _ he could have changed it since last week, but why would he do that right before going on vacation?”

“How long until you can figure out what the new one is?” Nixon asks.

“Not fast enough for what we need,” Malarkey admits.

Luz’s heart sinks. 

“I guess we can contact the IT department, get them to reset your password for you, just tell them you locked yourself out or something,” Malarkey advises.

If he wasn’t so stressed out Luz might have laughed at that, knowing how often he has had to reset people’s passwords when they’ve locked themselves out.

That thought sparks another one in his brain. People are never as careful with their passwords as they should be, especially when they think there is enough security to cover them.

He starts opening the drawers in Jones’ desk, rooting through the papers to find what he’s looking for.

“What are you doing?” Nixon asks, as Luz frantically digs through another drawer.

“He must have written it down, he’d know he’d never remember what it was after being gone on vacation for a week, he’d definitely write it down,” Luz explains, looking through the last drawer.

“Maybe he wrote it down on his phone?” Malarkey counters.

Luz huffs and slams the drawer shut, knowing Malarkey is probably right. He looks around the top of the desk one last time, trying to see anything he may have missed. He’s just about to give in and call down to IT when the keyboard catches his eye again.

He quickly lifts up the keyboard and underneath is a Post-it note with a seemingly random assortment of letters and numbers.

“Ha!” Nixon exclaims as the password is revealed.

“What? Did you find it?” Malarkey asks.

“Under the keyboard,” Luz explains as he types the password in and the login screen fades out into the main screen.

“Oh god, people are still doing that?”

“Hey, I do that,” Nixon admits and Luz knows that Malarkey is rolling his eyes right along with him at that.

“Stop doing that, Nix, we are about to be housing a lot more sensitive information, we don’t need to be any more vulnerable than we already are,” Malarkey scolds.

The banter has Luz’s nerves feeling not quite as frayed and he is able to access the password protected documents that he needs. This time, the password Malarkey had given him works.

Only, when he opens it up, it’s not just a list of names and ability types, there are full blown dossiers on each individual they are monitoring. And the number is staggering.

The files are sorted by ability type and the first one has all the documents on Empaths, which has 848 separate files. The Healers folder has 326 individuals. He braces himself as he opens the file labeled ‘Mimics’, and tries not to gasp when he sees five separate files inside. Though the file with Luz, G. is the only one with ‘CONFIRMED’ written next to it in the Mimic folder.

The last folder is just labeled Other and Luz can’t help but be intrigued. 

There are 27 files in the Other folder, a few of the names have the same confirmed status that Luz has, but that is not what catches Luz’s eye immediately. As soon as he opens the folder his eye is immediately drawn to the file labeled ‘Toye, J.’ and Luz’s fingers itch to open the file. Questions begin firing through Luz’s brain, does Joe have an ability? Or is this just a list of people known to be involved with those with abilities?

Instead of opening the file and reading everything they may know about Joe, Luz resists and continues copying everything onto the hard drive. 

“Hey, guys?” Malarkey speaks up again after about a minute. “This might be nothing, but Sobel just made a phone call to a private number.”

“What number?” Nixon asks.

“We’re looking it up now, but I’m going to suggest that you guys get out of there soon.”

“Almost done,” Luz assures him, as he watches the animation showing the file transfer to be at 85%.

“I’ll let you know what we find out,” Malarkey says and hangs up before they can say anything else.

As the last few percentage points tick up toward 100%, both Luz and Nixon stare at the screen, neither of them let out a breath.

They both spring into action as soon as the transfer hits 100 and the box goes away. Nixon gets the desk back in order and Luz retrieves his hard drive and shuts the computer down. 

Though Luz is still feeling the adrenaline pumping through his veins, he doesn’t feel quite as sick anymore, he feels like he’s actually accomplished something.

That is, until Nixon’s phone rings before they make it to the door of the office and Liebgott’s voice comes through the speaker.

“Get out of there now.”

That stops both of them in their tracks, and Luz’s heart plummets. 

“What?” Luz manages to get out despite the fact that his throat has closed up.

“Sobel called Jones’ cell phone. We don’t know if he was able to get through, but he’s on to you and you need to get out now. Go down the stairs, to the bottom floor, they don’t go near the guard station. There will be a door to the left as soon as you walk out of the stairwell. Go down the hallway and into the room at the end, there is an exit through that room. Toye will be there with the car.”  

Before either of them can respond, Liebgott has hung up.

“Shit,” Nixon says, and all Luz can do is nod in agreement.

They both brace themselves for just a moment before stepping back out into the hallway.

“That  _ was _ fast,” Cathy jokes, as they make their way back through the office as quickly as possible without giving anything away.

“Oh you know, just one of those small things that doesn’t take long, but can’t wait,” Nixon says, not stopping as he talks.

“I’ll see you in a few days, Cathy, have a good New Years,” Luz says, also not stopping, and they are both down the hall and out the door before she has time to respond.

They pick up the pace a little more past the rows of cubicles, nobody seems to be paying much attention to them. They pass the elevators and Nixon pushes open the door to the stairwell, holding it just long enough for Luz to slip his way through. As soon as the door slams shut they are both descending the stairs as fast as they can go. 

Luz can’t stop reaching down to touch his pocket to make sure the hard drive is still there. His other sweaty palm slides across the metal rail as he stays just a few stairs behind Nixon.

When they reach the bottom floor Nixon stops and opens the door slowly to peek through.

Nixon nods his head and Luz walks out first and opens the door immediately on their left, nobody seems to be in the hallway either

They both nearly run down the short hallway, and Luz just barely has time to hope the door they’re heading to won’t be locked when Nixon reaches it and pulls it open. 

The room is fairly dark, but Luz can tell it’s mainly just used for storage. There are metal shelving units making up rows on one side of the room, while the other seems to be where the shred and garbage is kept if the industrial sized bags of what look like shredded paper are anything to go by.

Luz nearly takes a breath in relief that they’re almost out, they’re almost done, Joe is just on the other side of the door waiting to drive them back to HQ. But before he can, he is shoved roughly between a shelving unit and the wall. He gasps at the pain against his stomach when he’s pushed against the metal bar.

“Don’t move,” Nixon whispers, and holds Luz in place for just a moment before backing up.

“Wh-“ Luz starts to ask, but Nixon puts his finger to his lips and backs up even more.

Just when Luz is about to defy Nixon’s orders and follow him anyway, he hears Sobel’s voice from around the corner of the shelving unit he’s pressed up against.

“Nixon, where is it?”

“Jesus, Sobel, you scared me,” Nixon says, and he’s turned so Luz can only see a partial outline of his profile.

“Where is it, Nixon, I won’t ask again.”

“Why do you have a gun?”

“Answer the question.”

“Where is what? Put the gun down, I didn’t even know they let security guards carry guns.”

Luz wants to reach out and pull Nixon back toward him, but he feels frozen on the spot at the mention of a gun.

“I’m not putting this gun down, you have a Mimic with you, and I want to know where it is.”

That stops Luz from breathing all together as he holds his breath and pushes himself further into the wall.

“Okay, you’ve really lost it now, a Mimic? Are you serious?” Nixon’s voice is calm, but Luz thinks he can hear the strain beneath his words.

“I’ve been keeping up with what’s been going on, and rumor has it that Nixon Pharm picked up a Mimic not too long ago.”

“You’ve gotta stop listening to rumors, Sobel. If Nixon Pharm had a Mimic, I’d know about it, and trust me, they don’t have a Mimic.”

Luz doesn’t think he can get to his phone to type out a text to Joe without the light giving him away. But he doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t know how he can help, because he doubts that Sobel is just going to let Nixon walk out.

“Jones, where is he?” Sobel asks.

“Still in his office, probably.”

“And what are you doing down here?”

“Okay, what is this really about? You’re pointing a gun at me because I’m hanging out in the storage room? You start up some ridiculous story about a Mimic, what, so you can shoot me like you’ve always wanted and provide the cops with your insane theory to justify it? Get out of my way, Sobel, I don’t have time for this.”

“That wasn’t Henry Jones.”

“It sure did look like him, and he was able to get into his office just fine, are you saying your security systems are ineffective?” Nixon ridicules, and Luz wants to tell him to knock it off, even when a gun pointed at him apparently, Nixon can’t help but condescend. 

“It was a Mimic, they can look like anyone and sound like anyone and you brought him here for some reason.”

He hates this, he hates knowing the Sobel might just shoot Nixon and there is nothing he can do to help him. Just as that thought crosses his mind, an idea flashes through it as well. It’s risky, and probably won’t even work. But he can’t stand here any longer, worrying about Nixon getting shot and then not know what he’ll do once Sobel finds him. He just really hopes Sobel hadn’t been paying too close attention to their clothes earlier. He closes his eyes and concentrates.

“I brought him here? Look, sorry to break it to you, but Jones called me up and asked me to come with him today. There’s nothing sketchy going on here, and there certainly aren’t any Mimics,” Nixon scoffs.

Luz pulls at his clothes a little and ruffles up his hair before he rushes over where he can see both men, and they can see him.

“He’s lying, Sobel, that  _ thing _ is a Mimic. He disguised himself as Henry Jones and asked me to come here today. Once I realized something was off it was already too late. You were right, Nixon Pharm  _ did _ have a Mimic, but it escaped,” he says a little breathlessly, attempting to look like there had been a struggle.

Sobel looks shocked and confused, and he doesn’t seem to know which Nixon to point the gun at. Luz flinches every time it moves, knowing it could go off at any moment. Nixon also looks shocked, and livid.

“Put the gun down, Sobel, do you know what will happen if you kill that thing? The only known Mimic in the world? They’d never let you be an agent after that,” Luz says, trying to adopt Nixon’s arrogance while his voice shakes and his eyes are nearly incapable of leaving the gun in Sobel’s hand.

“How do I know you’re not working together? How do I know you’re not the real Mimic?” Sobel asks, turning the gun to just point at Luz.

Luz flinches again, but is able to look Sobel in the eye. “If I was the Mimic, why would I be telling you not to shoot him? It probably wants you to shoot me.”

Sobel’s eyes narrow a little, like he’s thinking over Luz’s words.

“Look, you can test us both if you want somehow, but we have to get him restrained and back over to our research lab,” Luz says after a few seconds, just trying to get them out and hopefully moving.

Luz can see Nixon, who has been looking pretty furious for the past few seconds, shift, his eyes widening a little.

“Hey, hey no wait, that’s the Mimic, he’s trying to get inside your head,” Nixon says excitedly, taking a step toward Sobel.

Sobel points the gun back toward Nixon, looking alarmed at the sudden outburst. He looks between the two men, who look exactly alike, and Luz can tell that the uncertainty is eating at him. Luz also glares at Nixon for spoiling his plan at keeping the gun  _ off _ of him.

There’s a glint in Nixon’s eyes though, and apparently he knows something that Luz doesn’t. 

“Sobel, I’m obviously Nixon, but either way, I’m going to need you to put the gun down. I don’t want you shooting me, and I can’t having you shooting this Mimic, so just put the gun down and hand me some zip ties or handcuffs if you’ve got them,” Luz says. As he’s speaking though, he thinks he sees movement from behind Sobel’s shoulder.

Sobel glares at him for a few seconds before nodding, and sets the gun down on the nearest shelf, Luz can’t help but sigh in relief, and he can see Nixon’s shoulder relax just a little as well.

Just as Sobel reaches back for his handcuffs, the movement behind him gets closer.

“Hey,” a rough voice comes up from behind Sobel.

Sobel turns quickly, but before he is all the way around his head snaps to the side and he falls to the ground in a heap, with some blood running down the side of his face.

“Holy shit, did you kill him?” Luz asks, as Joe steps out of the shadows, flexing his fingers around the bloodied brass knuckles on his hand.

“Nah, he’s fine,” Joe assures him, but Luz still bends down the check the unconscious man’s pulse.

“You guys okay?” Joe asks once Luz stands back up.

“I guess, let’s just get the hell out of here,” Nixon says and starts making his way toward Joe. “Oh, and Luz, I think you should change into something else, ya know, just in case anyone else sees us.”

With that Nixon makes his way to the back door. Joe waits as Luz focuses his mind back on Henry Jones. It doesn’t have to be a perfect Mimic, just enough to get them out without detection.

Joe studies the change and nods to assure Luz that the Mimic has worked and together they walk to the back door where Nixon is waiting. 

Nixon exits first, followed by Luz and then Joe. The car is sitting by the back exit, engine running, ready for a quick retreat. Joe slides into the driver’s seat while Nixon and Luz both get into the back through the closest door.

As soon as the doors are closed Joe takes off, and Luz reaches for his pocket again, making sure the hard drive is still there. When his fingers touch the plastic cover he breathes a sigh of relief.

He can’t believe he actually pulled it off.

-  
  


At headquarters, everyone is celebrating, pulling Luz into a hug or a handshake, telling him how proud they are of him. 

The adrenaline hasn’t quite worn off yet, so he feels about as excited as the rest of his colleagues. 

He’d handed off the hard drive to Winters as soon as he’d gotten back, with the request that he have access to it. Winters had agreed easily.

As Guarnere lets Luz’s hand go from his overly enthusiastic handshake, Luz can see Lipton tentatively ease his way over to him.

“I’m glad you’re okay, and that everything went well,” Lipton says, sounding cautious.

“Thanks,” Luz replies, feeling a little awkward himself.

Lip just nods and sends him a small smile before trying to walk away, but before he can get far, Luz reaches out and puts his arms around him, pulling him into a hug. He’s not sure if they’re back to where they were, but he doesn’t like the uncomfortableness between them, and he knows they can get back there one day.

When they separate, Lipton’s smile is a little wider and he pats Luz on the arm before walking back to the middle of the bullpen, where Winters is standing. 

Nixon sidles up next to Luz at one point, holding a drink in his hand, Luz wonders where he even got a drink, and where he can get one himself.

“I know why you did what you did today,” Nixon says, not looking at him.

“Huh?”

“Why you stepped in, I know why you did it, and…thank you. I know that you and I haven’t had the best working relationship, but I thought we did well together.”

“I guess so,” Luz says, because he doesn’t want Nixon to get any ideas of them becoming the next Joes, going out into the field together.

“Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you.”

Before Luz can respond, Nixon steps away. 

The words continue to ring in his ears though, striking something in his brain. Mimics may not have the same type of abilities that help them understand others the way Empaths do, and they can’t make someone feel calm or numb the way a Healer can. But a Mimic actually can keep another person safe using their ability, in a way neither of the others can. The thought of that, that maybe it’s not just about self-preservation, maybe being a Mimic can also mean being a protector, makes a warmth spread through his chest.

“Listen up!” Winters says suddenly from his spot in the middle of the room. 

The room goes quiet and they all look over to see what their leader has to say.

“I just want to thank each and every one of you for what you did today. We couldn’t have done this without everyone. And of course, to Luz,” Winters is cut off for a moment when Guarnere, Babe, McClung and Liebgott all echo “To Luz” after him. 

Winters smiles. “Luz, what you did today was at a great personal sacrifice, and none of us will ever forget that. We are not nearly done fighting this thing, but with what you were able to get us, we finally have the tools we need to win this war. The people that we can save from this alone will make all of this hard work worth it. We have a long way to go, everyone, but I believe in us, and I know we can win this thing.”

The room erupts into applause and whistles and cheers. Luz claps along with them. He feels the warmth in his chest once more.  
  


“Can I talk to you for a minute?” He hears the quiet, rough sound of Joe’s voice near his ear.

Luz looks over his shoulder, Joe’s dark eyes making him a little speechless, as they often do. So he just nods.

Joe leads him into Lipton’s office and closes the door behind them. Instantly, the noise from the bullpen is muffled. 

“What’s up?” Luz asks when Joe doesn’t start talking right away.

Joe takes a deep breath, looks like he’s about to speak and then stops. Frustration on Joe looks pretty endearing so Luz decides to keep quiet for now.

Joe looks around the room for a second, his eyes catching on something and that seems to spark him into action.

“Here, come here,” he says, lightly steering Luz further into the office and turning him around so Luz’s back is to him.

Luz comes face to face with himself and Joe in Lipton’s mirror.

“What do you see?” Joe asks from behind him, and Luz tries to stop himself from shivering too much at the sound

“Uh, us?” 

Joe huffs and puts his hands on Luz’s shoulders, walking them forward a little more so that only Luz is the main subject in the mirror.

“Look, and tell me what you see.”

“Me? Am I getting close? What’s going on, Joe?”

He can still see Joe’s grin reflected back from behind him.

“Whose hair do you have? Is there anything not right on your face? What about your eyes?”

Luz is so confused, but he steps forward even more, worried that maybe he didn’t fully transform back. He lifts his hands up, studies his fingerprints. Those are right. He looks back at his face, his hair, his ears, everything looks right. His eyes, he knows his eyes, and right now he has his own eyes. His slight panic at the idea that he hadn’t fully transformed back eases a little.

“No Joe, everything is right, this is all me. I just see me right now.”

Joe’s hands wrap around his shoulders again, twisting Luz away from the mirror so that they’re facing each other.

“That’s what I see too, okay? The other day? That is what I saw. This is what I always see.”

Luz frowns, trying to figure out Joe’s words. What happened the other day? 

He has a flash of memory, of Joe studying his eyes, the look of adoration on his face. His breath catches in his throat with the realization of what Joe is trying to tell him.

“Really?” His voice comes out small, hopeful.

Joe smiles, a rare, real smile. Not a grin or a smirk, but one that lights up his whole face and Luz can’t do anything but mirror it.

Joe leans in to kiss him, but has to pull away a moment later.

“Shit, your teeth are in the way, I can’t actually kiss you if you don’t stop smiling.”

“Sorry,” he says, but the smile on his face isn’t getting any smaller so his apology just comes out insincere.

Luz really can’t help it, as much as he’d like to be kissing Joe right now the smile is not going away, it feels like it may just burst right out of him.

Sensing Luz's inability to stop smiling Joe just chuckles and pulls Luz into an embrace instead.

Wrapping his arms around Joe’s waist, Luz closes his eyes and presses his smile to Joe’s shoulder.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> And also a special thank you to @luzlicious for beta-ing & @artemidi for your constant support.  
> Couldn't have done it without you guys! <3


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